Volume 15, Numro 1

Fvrier 2008

Lorsque jaillit lclair, Admirable est celui qui ne pense pas : La vie passe. (Basho)

Zen Gong
Volume 15, Numro 1 Fvrier 2008

Direction Monique Dumont Comit de rdaction Louis Bricault, Monique Dumont Collaborateurs pour ce numro Fred Bloom, Louis Bricault, Roger Brouillette, Monique Dumont, Alison Edwards, Robert Godin, Peter Hadekel, Pierre Lanoix, Jacques Lesprance, Janine Lvesque, Albert Low, Jean Low, Sarah Webb. Mise en page Jacques Lesprance Distribution Pierre Laroche, Janine Lvesque Le Zen Gong est une publication du Centre Zen de Montral Directeur du Centre : Albert Low Adresse : 824, rue Parc Stanley, H2C 1A2 Tlphone : (514) 388-4518 Site Web : zenmontreal.ca Dpt lgal - Bibliothque nationale du Qubec, 2008 NOTER : LE ZEN GONG NE PREND PLUS DABONNEMENTS. La revue est disponible dans certaines librairies de Montral, entre autres, la librairie Boule de Neige, rue Saint-Denis.

Vieillir

Getting Older

Ballade en proverbes du vieux temps

Raymond Queneau
I l f a ut d e t o u t p o u r f a i r e u n m on d e Il faut des vieillards tremblotants Il faut des milliards de secondes I l f a ut c h a q u e ch os e e n s o n t e m p s En mars il y a le printemps I l e s t u n m o i s o l o n m o i s s o n n e I l e s t u n j o u r a u b o ut d e l a n L h i v e r a r r i v e a p r s l a u t o m n e La pierre qui roule est sans mousse Bliers tondus glent au vent Entre les pavs lherbe pousse Que voil de dsagrmen ts C h aq u e a r b r e v t s o n l i n c e u l b l a n c Le soleil se trane tout jone C e s t l a n e i g e a p r s l e b e a u t e m p s L h i v e r a r r i v e a p r s l a u t o m n e Quand on est vieux on nest plus jeune On finit par perdre ses dents Aprs avoir mang on jene Personne nest jamais content On regrette ses jouets denfant On rle aprs le tlphone O n p l e u r e c o m m e u n c a ma n L h i v e r a r r i v e a p r s l a u t o m n e ENVOI P r i n c e ! t o ut a c e s t l e c h i e n d e n t C e s t e n c o r e p i s s i t u r a i s on n e s L a m o r t t a t o uj o u r s a u t o u r n a n t L h i v e r a r r i v e a p r s l a u t o m n e

Song of the Twelve Hours of the Day

By Zen Master Joshu (778-897)
The cock crows. The first hour of the day.1 Aware of sadness, feeling down and out yet getting up. There are neither underskirts nor undershirts, Just something that looks a little like a robe. Underwear with the waist out, work pants in tatters, A head covered with thirty-five pounds of black grit. In such a way, wishing to practise and help people. Who knows that, on the contrary, it is being a nitwit. Sun level with the ground. The second hour of the day. A broken-down temple in a deserted village theres nothing worth saying about it. In the morning gruel theres not a grain of rice, Idly facing the open window and its dirty cracks. Only the sparrows chattering, no one to be friends with, Sitting alone, now and then hearing fallen leaves hurry by. Who said that to leave home is to cut off likes and dislikes? If I think about it, before I know it there are tears moistening my hanky. Sun up. The third hour of the day. Purity is turning into compulsive passions. The merit of doing something is to get buried in the dirt, The boundless domain has not yet been swept. Often the brows are knit, seldom is the heart content, Its hard to put up with the wizened old men of the east village. Donations have never been brought here, An untethered donkey eats the weeds in front of my hall. Meal time. The fourth hour of the day. Aimlessley working to kindle a fire and gazing at it from all sides. Cakes and cookies ran out last year, Thinking of them today and vacantly swallowing my saliva. Seldom having things together, incessantly sighing, Among the many people there are no good men. Those who come here just ask to have a cup of tea, Not getting any they go off spluttering in anger. Mid-morning. The fifth hour of the day. Shaving my head, who would have guessed it would happen like this? Nothing in particular made me ask to be a country priest, Outcast, hungry, and lonely, feeling like I could die. Mr Chang and Mr Lee, Never have they borne the slightest bit of respect for me. A while ago you happened to arrive at my gate, But only asked to borrow some tea and some paper. The sun in the south. The sixth hour of the day. For making the rounds to get rice and tea there are no special arrangements. Having gone to the houses in the south, going to the houses in the north, Sure enough, all the way to the northern houses Im given only excuses. Bitter salt, soured barley, A millet-rice paste mixed with chard.

This is only to be called not being negligent of the offering, The Tao-mind of a priest has to be solidified. Declining sun. The seventh hour of the day. Turning things around, not walking in the domain of light and shade. Once I heard, One time eating to repletion and a hundred days of starvation are forgotten, Today my body is just this. Not studying Chan (Zen), not discussing principles, Spreading out these torn reeds and sleeping in the sun. You can imagine beyond Tsushita heaven, But its not as good as this sun toasting my back. Late afternoon. The eight hour of the day. And there is someone burning incense and making bows. Of these five old ladies, three have goitre, The other two have faces black with wrinkles. Linseed tea, its so very rare, The two Diamond Kings neednt bother flexing their muscles. I pray that next year, when the silk and barley are ripe, Rahula-ji will give me a word. Sun down. The ninth hour of the day. Except for the deserted wilderness what is there to protect? The greatness of a monk is to flow on without any special obligations, A monk going from temple to temple has eternity, Words that go beyond the pattern do not come through the mouth, Aimlessly continuing where the sons of Shakyamuni left off. A staff of rough bramble wood; Its not just for mountain climbing but also to chase off dogs. Golden darkness. The tenth hour of the day. Sitting alone in darkness of a single empty room.

For ever unbroken by flickering candlelight, The purity in front of me is pitch black. Not even hearing a bell vacantly passing the day, I hear only the noisy scurrying of old rats. What more has to be done to have feelings? Whatever I think is a thought of Paramita. Bedtime. The eleventh hour of the day. The clear moon in front of the gate, to whom is it begrudged? Going back inside, my only regret is that its time to go to sleep, Besides the clothes on my back, what covers are needed? Head monk Liu, ascetic Chang, Talking of goodness with their lips, how wonderful! No matter if my empty bag is emptied out, If you ask about it, youd never understand all the reasons for it. Midnight. Twelfth hour of the day. This feeling, how can it cease even for a moment? Thinking of the people in the world who have left home, It seems like Ive been a temple priest for a long time now. A dirt bed, a torn reed mat, An old elm-block pillow without any padding. To the Holy Image not offering any Arabian incense In ashes hearing only the shitting of the ox. Y

1One hour is equivalent to two western hours.

The Best is Y et to Be?

Albert Low
I grow old, I grow old Shall I wear the bottom of my trousers rolled? T.S.Eliot So you want me to write about getting old. I do not know why you ask me to do this kind of thing. After all I am only a beginner and I dont know much about the subject. Furthermore, as far as I can remember, this is the first time that I have got old. But the little that I do know about the subject impels me to say that if the alternative were not so dubious I would tell you, Dont do it. For one thing there is no future in it. For another it really is not for sissies. I remember once Philip Kapleau as he lowered himself gingerly into an armchair he was over eighty at the time groaning, Whoever said, Grow old with me the best is yet to be must have been about 21. Either that or it must have been said by a seventy year old guy on ecstasy. Let me share some of my discoveries about getting old. For one thing getting out of bed in the morning sometimes feels a lot like getting out of a train wreck. They say that if, after the age of fifty you do not ache when you get out of bed then you are dead. Let me tell you, after the age of seventy, sometimes when you get out of bed you wish you were. Another thing is that bits start falling off. I have already lost parts of my eyes to cataract operations, many of my teeth and a hip. Its true that they gave me replacement parts, but somehow they dont seem to work quite so well as the originals used to. Another problem is that no-one does things as well as they used to when I was young. The kids are a lot more unruly, fruit no longer tastes like fruit, you can never find a sales assistant when you want one, and you just try getting someone on the phone; one of my fingers has become arthritic pressing all the buttons. In those days bank managers called you Sir!, doctors made home calls and the policeman was your friend. There was even a song that said, If you want to know the time ask a policeman. Just think. When I was young we had all the time in the world. We could even read a book from beginning to end. We did not have TV, the Web, cell phones, computer games, or email and yet we remained perfectly sane. An airplane was something you rushed out of doors to see, and it was only the local doctor who could afford a car. No washing machines, refrigerators, microwaves, or telephones, disturbed the peace. No Big Macs, no pizzas, no TV dinners! Central heating was unknown as was air-conditioning. We had no i-pod, i-mac, no DVD, VCR, CD or even Hi Fi. I remember a teacher telling me that the developing industries to get into were electronics and plastics, and although I nodded wisely it took me quite a while before I knew what the words even meant. Another thing is that that for an old person the world has a lot more living people in it. For a twenty year old any one older than thirty becomes invisible. In fact I remember a movie that was, I think, playing in the 60s, in which anyone older than thirty was sent off to a happy farm, where they were fed on happy pills to keep them out of the way. You know when you are getting old when It seems that every other week you are having another birthday. When the real meaning of Happy returns of the day strikes you for the first time. When you find yourself in the middle of a room wondering why and how you got there.

 When you start talking about one thing and

end up talking about something quite different. When an elderly lady gives you her seat on the metro. When you no longer save Xmas wrappings for next Xmas. When your doctor looks like a teenager. When you do not buy green bananas any more. When doing up your shoelaces is the major accomplishment of the day. A very well known koan is the one where a monk goes to a master and asks, How can I get away from the heat in the summer and the cold in the winter? If he had been an old monk he might well have asked, How can I get away from the aches in the morning and the pains at night? As you probably know the maser said, Go where there is no heat in summer and cold in winter. Oh! replied the monk, Where is that? When in summer, sweat; when in

winter, shiver. So where do we go to find where there is no ache in the morning or pain at night? I remember when, during my last trip to England, I visited my old aunt. She was ninetythree years old at the time, living on her own and fiercely independent and during the past couple of years had kicked out two social workers who had come to help look after her because they got in her way. She had been recently discharged from hospital after suffering a touch of food poisoning. In the latter part of her life she had been back and forth to hospital several times for various ailments and certainly knew the aches in the morning and the pains at night. I asked her, How old are you aunt? Ninety-three, she said. How old do you feel? I continued. Without a pause she flashed back, Twenty-one! and gave me the most beatific smile. I know just what she meant. Y

Vieillir
Robert Godin
Le temps nous joue bien des tours. Si lon regarde en arrire, cest linfini. Si lon regarde en avant, cest galement linfini. Le prsent se renouvelle infiniment. Il ny a pas de temps, il ny a que linfini. Lon dfinit les distances entre notre plante et les galaxies en anneslumire , facile dire, mais impossible saisir. Mais quand je regarde mes mains, que je me regarde dans le miroir et que je vois mes cheveux gris et les rides sur ma figure, quand je sens la douleur dans mes articulations, je sais que le temps passe. La Terre tourne sur elle-mme et autour du Soleil en marquant des tapes prcises dans le temps. Le passage des saisons minforme de ce grand voyage dans lespace. Le temps existe et nexiste pas, tout la fois. Cest un peu comme vieillir : dans la continuit de la perception de moi-mme, je ne me sens pas vieillir, je me sens comme je me suis toujours senti. Mais dans la relation avec mon corps, avec le cours de ma vie, je ne peux pas ignorer que le temps passe, sans merci, sans piti, inexorablement. Gurdjieff, dans ses Rcits de Belzbuth son petit-fils, dsigne le temps avec lexpression Notre Matre Universel, lImpitoyable Hropas , auquel mme lAbsolu est soumis dune certaine manire. Jai soixante et onze ans. Je ne suis pas vieux, mais je ne suis pas jeune. Je sais que je suis vieux quand je me souviens parfois du magasin Morgan ou du boulevard Dorchester ou des tramways sur la rue SteCatherine. Mais je sais que je nai pas vieilli quand je fais de la randonne en fort, que jcoute le son du vent dans les aiguilles de pin, les chansons des oiseaux ou celles des grenouilles au printemps, le bruit des vagues du Pacifique qui se brisent sur les rochers de lle de Vancouver. Je dcouvre une nouvelle libert en vieillissant. Pouvant plus aisment choisir mes activits, ma famille tant devenue adulte, je prends conscience du fait que mon horizon se rapproche dans le temps. Quand je parle mes tudiants dvnements futurs, je sais quils y seront (pour la plupart) et que je ny serai pas (cest certain). Nayant plus les mmes responsabilits comme pre de famille, comme responsable dentreprise, je peux simplifier ma vie et me concentrer plus aisment sur mon prsent et mouvrir avec moins de retenue des besoins profonds qui souvent ne trouvaient pas droit de cit aux poques antrieures de ma vie. Je demeure actif. Je conserve ma charge lUniversit. Mais je suis galement en proie une sorte dimpatience libratoire. Je naccepte plus aussi facilement de faire des compromis. Je mautorise plus aisment tre comme je suis et je cherche beaucoup moins me forcer tre ce que les autres aimeraient que je sois. Prenant graduellement conscience du fait que mon temps est compt , je me soumets plus volontiers au sentiment profond durgence qui a toujours t l, mais auquel pendant trop longtemps je nai pas accord suffisamment dimportance, faute de temps . Le gaspillage du prsent se supporte moins bien, car je sens bien que je naurai plus dautres chances . Comme la crit Philip Kapleau Le second Prcepte dicte de sabstenir de prendre ce que lon ne vous donne pas. Se voler du temps soimme, voler du temps ses rsolutions profondes, sont aussi des violations du second Prcepte . Vieillir, malgr les contraintes qui en rsultent ncessairement, me conduit une tape trs riche de ma vie. Enfin, aprs tant dannes jai trouv des bottes de randonne qui ne me font pas souffrir, jai de moins en moins de

besoins matriels combler, jai de moins en moins de choses prouver aux autres et il est pour moi de moins en moins important davoir raison. Tous ces fardeaux que jai ports religieusement et pniblement sur mes paules toute ma vie se font de plus en plus lgers. Il en reste bien suffisamment pour me garder les deux pieds sur terre, mais il y a pour moi beaucoup plus despace, de vide, de silence. Et en vieillissant, cest vers cet espace, ce vide et ce silence que je machemine, sans contrainte, dans le temps quil me reste , priode dont le terme est inconnu, mais qui chaque jour se raccourcit. linverse

de la peau de chagrin qui donne tout et prend tout en mme temps, en voulant de moins en moins il me semble que ma vie se donne un tout autre sens. Quelle aventure incroyable ! Mais le Guide a un rle important jouer. Citant Philip Kapleau encore une fois, Que peut donc un matre ? Il ne peut rien vous donner que vous nayez dj mais il peut vous aider vous dbarrasser en partie de ce qui nest pas votre vritable nature : croyances, opinions, rationalisations, ides qui vous emprisonnent comme dans un cocon. On a besoin dun matre pour raliser quil ny a rien apprendre . Y

A Birds Eye View

Peter Hadekel
Youre really starting to look your age, my parrot said the other day while I was shaving. I see wrinkles everywhere. Gee, thanks a lot, whats gotten into you anyway?, I replied, shooting an annoyed look his way. My parrot is often cranky in the morning before his first cup of coffee, so I tried to ignore the remark. You know what I mean, he persisted. The gray hair, the paunch on your belly. And boy, have you ever slowed down on the tennis court. Balls you used to reach are whizzing by you all the time. OK, so what? I said, trying to suck my stomach a little further inside my belt. Maybe Im not quite as young as I was, but Im not too shabby. Actually, the evidence is everywhere and I have chosen to ignore it. Reading the fine print on medicine bottles is getting a lot tougher. I hardly recognize the 25 year-old guy in those old photographs. My knees often throb. Getting up in the morning and rolling out of bed can be an adventure. You cant fool my parrot. He knows me better than I know myself, and he can see my vanity. So, what are you going to do about it? he taunted. Dye your hair, go to the gym, buy a sports car, get a girlfriend? Enough! I yelled. Now, I was prepared to get in his face. Listen, you birdbrain, theres no such thing as getting old. Its all in the mind. Tell me, I continued confidently. Can you pinpoint an actual moment in time when you get older? I was sure Id backed him into a philosophical corner. Ha! he laughed. Is that one of those crazy ideas you picked up from your Buddhist friends? Heck, no, I insisted. You can see for yourself. The trouble with you parrots is that you believe everything you hear and you parrot it back as if it were the truth. The bird cocked his head and fixed me with a stare. Well then, wise guy, show me youre not getting any older, he said. Prove it. I must admit that was clever. He really surprised me with that one, and I didnt know how to respond. . . Who do you think you are? Some sort of Zen teacher?, I finally stammered, trying to cover my loss of aplomb. By now, the parrot had stopped his preening and strutting. He seemed to be showing genuine compassion for my middle-aged predicament. So I dropped my defenses and I spoke to him a little less sharply. Of course, youre right, my fine-feathered friend. Were all getting older, even birds like you. But its not really so bad. Hopefully, we get a little wiser with each passing day. We make mistakes and we try to learn from them. All things considered, I said unconvincingly, Id rather be 56 than 16. The parrot scoffed at me. I dont believe that for a minute. When youre 16, youve got a lot to look forward to. You can dream big dreams. But for you, buddy, its all down hill from here. No more dreams for you. All you have to look forward to is a senior-citizen discount at the movie theatre. Darn that parrot, he can really get under my skin. I had to change my tack, and I knew just how to do it. The parrot fancies himself a real lover-boy, so I decided to appeal to his romantic sensibilities. OK, I said. Just stop your screeching and listen for a minute. Getting older means that youre counting time. But when youre on a date with that mynah bird youre in love with, when you stare lovingly into those bottomless green eyes of hers, are you thinking about the passage of time? Oh no, said Lover Boy, of course not. Its the perfect union of two souls. Time is at a standstill. Exactly my point, I said with a flourish. The parrot seemed willing to give me the benefit of the doubt, but I soon lost his attention. He was immersed in thoughts of his girlfriend. The discussion stopped, which was a good thing. Too much talking with a parrot can lead to a headache. Besides, it was time to clean his cage. Y

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The Holy T eaching of Vimalakirti On The Human Body

Friends, this body is so impermanent, fragile, unworthy of confidence, and feeble. It is so insubstantial, perishable, short-lived, painful, filled with diseases, and subject to changes. Thus my friends, as this body is only a vessel of many sicknesses, wise men do not rely on it. This body is like a ball of foam, unable to bear any pressure. It is like a water bubble, not remaining very long. It is like a mirage, born from the appetites of the passions. It is like the trunk of the plantain tree, having no core. Alas! This body is like a machine, a nexus of bones and tendons. It is like a magical illusion, consisting of falsifications. It is like a dream, being an unreal vision. It is like a reflection, being the image of former actions. It is like an echo, being dependent on conditioning. It is like a cloud, being characterized by turbulence and dissolution. It is like a flash of lightning, being unstable, and decaying every moment. The body is ownerless, being the product of a variety of conditions. This body is inert, like the earth; selfless, like water; lifeless, like fire; impersonal, like the wind; and nonsubstantial, like space. This body is unreal, being a collocation of the four main elements. It is void, not existing as self or as selfpossessed. It is inanimate, being like grass, trees, walls, clods of earth, and hallucinations. It is insensate, being driven like a windmill. It is filthy, being an agglomeration of pus and excrement. It is false, being fated to be broken and destroyed, in spite of being anointed and massaged. It is afflicted by the four hundred and four diseases. It is like an ancient well, constantly overwhelmed by old age. Its duration is never certain certain only is its end in death. This body is a combination of aggregates, elements, and sense-media, which are comparable to murderers, poisonous snakes, and an empty town, respectively. Therefore, you should be revulsed by such a body. You should despair of it and should arouse your admiration of the body of the Tathagata. The Body of the Tathagata Friends, the body of a Tathagata is the body of Dharma, born of gnosis. The body of a Tathagata is born of the stores of merit and wisdom. It is born of morality, of meditation, of wisdom, of the liberations, and of the knowledge and vision of liberation. It is born of love, compassion, joy and impartiality. It is born of charity, discipline, and self-control. It is born of the path of ten virtues. It is born of patience and gentleness. It is born of the roots of virtue planted by solid efforts. It is born of the concentrations, the liberations, the meditations, and the absorptions. It is born of learning, wisdom, and liberative technique. Is is born of the thirty-seven aids to enlightenment. It is born of mental quiescence and transcendental analysis. It is born of the ten powers, the four fearlessnesses, and the eighteen special qualities. It is born of all the transcendences. It is born from sciences and superknowledges. It is born of the abandonment of all evil qualities, and of the collection of all good qualities. It is born of truth. It is born of reality. It is born of conscious awareness. Friends, the body of a Tathagata is born of innumerable good works. Toward such a body you should turn your aspirations, and, in order to eliminate the sickness of the passions of all living beings, you should conceive the spirit of unexcelled, perfect enlightenment. Y From The Holy Teaching of Vimalakirti. A Mahayana Scripture, Transl. by Robert Thurman, The Pennsylvania State University Press, 1990, pp 22-23.

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Vieillir, une fissure o luit la lumir

Roger Brouillette
Le Bouddha a commenc sa recherche spirituelle quand il a rencontr la maladie, la vieillesse et la mort. Face ces trois situations inexorables de la vie, il ne pouvait plus se leurrer. On peut dire que la blessure fondamentale de vivre sest ouverte et que cest ainsi que la lumire de la vrit a luit. Quand les penses du monde sont fortes, les penses du Dharma sont faibles. Quel drle de phnomne que vieillir. Quand je marche, je sais que je marche. Quand je lis, je sais que je lis. Mais je sais rarement que je vieillis. Quand je me regarde dans le miroir, je vois un bonhomme de soixante ans et pour tre honnte, a me surprend toujours. a me surprend parce qutre vieux nest pas quelque chose qui est ressenti. Cest comme son dos, on le sent rarement sauf quand il nous fait mal. Est-ce quon sait vraiment quon est vieux? Non, sauf quand on compare son corps ce quil tait et quon accumule toutes ces comparaisons vis-vis un critre que lon tablit soi-mme. Ce critre peut tre trs lev, ma grand-mre avait quatre-vingt dix ans quand elle a admis commencer tre vieille. Pour elle cest arriv trs tard. Ce critre peut aussi tre trs bas. Ce fut le cas de Jacques Brel. Il la chant comme ceci : Mourir, cela nest rien, mourir, la belle affaire, mais vieillir, vieillir . Il ne pouvait pas accepter le changement dans son corps et cest arriv au dbut de la quarantaine. Vieillir lui faisait tellement peur quil lui prfrait la mort. Vieillir est donc profondment subjectif. Ce nest pas un droulement mcanique. Cest la raison pour laquelle on se sent vieillir par tapes, et non dune faon continue. On nat et on est enfant puis soudain, on ralise quon est adolescent et en peu de temps, on devient adulte. Lge adulte semble plus long, moins clairement dfini que lenfance et ladolescence.

Quand cesse-t-on dtre adulte et devient-on vieux? Pour certains, cela arrive ds que le corps connat la moindre dfaillance par rapport ce quils considrent comme immuable; pour dautres, cela narrive que trs tard quand le corps est au bout du rouleau. Par exemple, une expression consacre, le dmon de midi, rend bien compte de la difficult pour chacun de vivre la quarantaine, quand les rves seffondrent et que le corps commence ne plus tre ce quil tait. ce moment souvent, la solution, du moins pour lhomme, semble tre de tout recommencer, de se trouver une jeune compagne et de fonder une nouvelle famille. On recommence sa jeunesse, on nie la vieillesse, comme si celle-ci dpendait surtout de ce que lon fait et non du droulement de sa vie et de son attitude face celle-ci. Pour la femme, cette option est plus difficile, son corps lui permet rarement de refaire une famille cinquante ans. La socit par sa dfinition mme de la femme et de lhomme semble donner un sens diffrent pour lun et lautre de ce que cest que de vieillir. La dfinition sociale de la femme et ce dans toutes les socits, est trs oriente vers son corps, sa jeunesse, sans doute parce que depuis toujours, la femme ne peut procrer que dans sa jeunesse. La femme se dfinit souvent par sa beaut. Tout cela est trs reli au corps et ds que celui-ci change, la vieillesse est l. Pour lhomme, cette dfinition sociale est beaucoup plus oriente vers le succs, la russite, les accomplissements, encore l lorigine est possiblement de la possibilit de procrer jusqu un ge avanc. Ces accomplissements peuvent durer longtemps dans la vie dun homme. Cest pourquoi, sans doute on considre souvent que les hommes vieillissent mieux que les femmes. Pourtant, cest faux, les deux vieillissent au

12

mme rythme biologique et lhomme vieillit mme un peu plus rapidement que la femme, si on se fie aux statistiques de la mort. On relie toujours lge et vieillir mais ce nest pas la mme chose. On ne sent aucunement son ge. Lge est plutt une pense comme mesurer un mtre quatre-vingt. Est-ce quon sent vraiment la mesure de sa hauteur? Non, mme quand on se cogne le front sur un encadrement. Est-ce quon sent vraiment son ge, non on ne le connat que par la mmoire, la pense, cest tout. Cependant, quand on lit les paroles de Jacques Brel, il semble que mourir soit bien facile compar vieillir. Cest srement le cas pour une grande majorit de gens qui nont pas vivre la mort au quotidien ou qui peuvent oublier facilement la mort des autres. Quand on voit tous les produits de beaut, toutes les interventions chirurgicales esthtiques, tous ces magazines, surtout orients vers une clientle fminine, qui ne prnent que le jeune corps, on se rend compte que vieillir est trs difficile pour beaucoup. Il y a un dni profond de la vieillesse dans notre socit. Tous ces acteurs, toutes ces actrices qui ne vieillissent pas, qui demeurent ternellement jeunes, jusqu la mort. Plutt que de faire comme le Bouddha et de raliser lexistence de la vieillesse et de chercher dans cette blessure la source de la vrit, on se lance dans le maquillage et le mensonge. Dans toutes les socits, on associe souvent vieillesse et sagesse mais a aussi cest un prjug. Dans le Dhammapada, le Bouddha dit dans le chapitre sur la vieillesse : Cette personne sans connaissances, grandit comme un buf. Sa masse augmente, sa sagesse naugmente pas. Dune faon plus drle, on peut se souvenir de la chanson de Georges Brassens quon ait vingt ans quon soit grand-pre, quand on est con, on est con Certes lexprience aide ne pas refaire certaines erreurs mais si ctait rellement, profondment le cas, depuis les ges immmoriaux de lexistence humaine, on ne ferait plus la guerre, on naurait plus davidit, on ne serait plus ignorants de Soi. Oui, avec lge, il y a parfois moins de dsirs car

on croit tout avoir vcu une fois quon la vcu. Ce nest pas ncessairement la sagesse qui sinstalle mais lennui. La seule vraie sagesse qui puisse merger de la vieillesse est celle que le Bouddha a vue, celle de chercher de tout son cur une rponse Qui suis-je. . Mais finalement la vieillesse est l, peu importe lge auquel elle arrive. Mme tard, il vient un moment dans la vie o lon est vieux, o lon est vieille. Un jour un moine demanda un vtrinaire : Est-ce quun chien vieillit? Et le vtrinaire rpondit : Certainement! Quand les penses du Dharma sont fortes, les penses du monde sont faibles Dans le Chant du Zazen, Hakuin dit : Depuis toujours, tous les tres sont Bouddha . Depuis toujours signifie, maintenant, car il ny a que maintenant. Dogen appelle cela Uji, tempstre. Tout le temps pass et tout le temps futur est maintenant dit-il. Mais sil ny a que maintenant, que signifie vieillir? Tout ce que lon fait, on le fait maintenant. Certes on peut avoir le souvenir de ce quon a fait hier mais on a cette pense maintenant. On peut aussi rver lavenir et encore l, on a ce rve maintenant. Il ny a que maintenant. Pensez-y, quy a-t-il de lunivers, hors de ce moment? dit Dogen. Comment peut-on vieillir dans maintenant? Vieillir est une comparaison entre maintenant et la mmoire, donc un jeu de penses. On est ce que lon est, temps-tre, Uji, cest tout. Toute notion de changement sefface semble-t-il et pourtant Dogen parle du temps qui scoule dune faon continue. Il dit : Lunivers entier nest pas sans changement, nest pas immobile. Il coule, un moment dans lautre... Cet coulement nest pas hors de nous, cest nous. Nous arrivons donc un maintenant ou tempstre est vieux. Il y a l une ambigut importante entre ce temps-tre qui est maintenant, ne va pas et ne vient pas, et ce changement continu, cet coulement. Il faut plonger au cur de cette ambigut, surtout ne pas la laisser aller sans la questionner.

13

Mais qui est-ce qui est vieux? Dogen dit aussi, La voie cest se connatre, se connatre cest soublier, soublier cest tre un avec tout, tre un avec tout, cest dpasser le corps et lesprit Nisargadatta dcrit plutt de cela par une image: Vous ntes pas le corps, il est en vous! puis il ajoute Votre propre petit corps est plein de mystres et de dangers; malgr cela, vous nen avez pas peur parce que vous le considrez comme vtre. Ce que vous ignorez, cest que lunivers entier est votre corps et que vous navez aucune raison den avoir peur. Vous pourriez dire que vous avez deux corps : le personnel et luniversel. Le personnel va et vient, luniversel est toujours avec vous. Quand on lit ces paroles, quest-ce qui vieillit? Dogen parle de dpasser le corps et lesprit et Nisargadatta parle du corps personnel qui va et vient. Ce corps qui va et vient, cest celui quon voit chaque jour et auquel on est attach, pour ne pas dire dont on est lesclave. Le corps universel dont parle Nisargadatta vieillit-il? Dogen dirait quil est-temps et temps-tre coule tout simplement un moment dans lautre, lambigut. Ces deux corps sont-ils spars? Pour plusieurs, il sagit du corps et de lme. Le corps vieillit et meurt, lme poursuit son chemin ternellement. Mais Dogen dit bien de soublier et par le fait mme de raliser quon est un avec tout, donc dpasser corps et esprit, corps et me. Le Bouddha a t trs loin dans cette direction en utilisant annica et anatma, aucune chose, aucune me pour nous dcrire, dcrire notre situation. Pourtant, quand je me cogne le genou et que a fait mal, il y a bien l quelque chose, mais sil y a quelque chose quest-ce quannica? Quand anatma, cest beaucoup plus difficile sentir dune faon ou dune autre. Cette ambigut est souligne dans la Prajna Paramita : ni dclin, ni mort, ni fin de lun ou fin de lautre Encore l, il y a une source de recherche sur soi quil ne faut pas ngliger, une ambigut au cur de laquelle il

faut plonger, se noyer mme. Nisargadatta poursuit en disant que : La cration entire est votre corps universel. Mais vous tes tellement aveugl par ce qui vous est personnel que vous ne voyez pas luniversel. Cet aveuglement ne cessera pas par lui-mme, il vous faudra le traiter avec adresse et dtermination. Quand vous aurez compris et abandonn toutes les illusions, vous atteindrez un tat qui sera exempt derreur et de pch, dans lequel toutes les distinctions entre le personnel et luniversel ne seront plus... Sachant que vous tes loccupant de ces deux corps, vous ne renierez plus rien. Vous serez intress par tout lunivers; vous aimerez tous les tres vivants et vous les aiderez trs tendrement, trs sagement. Il ny aura plus de conflit dintrts entre vous et les autres. Ce sera la fin absolue de toute exploitation. Chacun de vos actes sera bnfique, chacun de vos mouvements sera une bndiction. Dans le Dhammapada, le Bouddha dit : La voie de la vie, cest la prsence; celle de la mort, ltat doubli. Celui qui est prsent, a la vie ternelle; celui qui oublie, cest comme sil tait dj mort. . Par ces paroles, le Bouddha encourage chacun tre prsent et dans la prsence raliser la vrit de Soi. Par le fait on ralise la vrit de la vieillesse. Personne ne peut nous donner cette ralisation. Dogen encourage le travail sur soi en disant : Ainsi, tudier fond aller et venir, et tudier fond arriver et nepas-arriver, est le temps-tre de ce moment. Mais finalement la vieillesse est l, peu importe le travail spirituel que lon a fait. Mais qui est vieux, qui est vieille? Un jour un moine demanda Joshu : Est-ce quun chien vieillit? Et Joshu rpondit : Mu! Y

14

Le jour o
Monique Dumont
Le jour o les herbes folles pousseront travers votre crne, vous regretterez ce que vous avez t. (Hanshan) Dj je le regrette parfois. Le temps de linsouciance. Linsouciance du corps. Quand il a temps et nergie profusion. Le temps o lon ne se soucie pas du temps, parce quon a tout le temps devant soi. Lhorizon stend tellement loin devant. Qui sont ces vieux que lon rencontre sans les regarder? Non, pas moi. Jamais. Linsouciance. Quand on na pas soccuper du corps. On peut marcher longtemps sans sinquiter de savoir si on pourra refaire le chemin inverse. On ne calcule pas sa fatigue. Ni son sommeil. Ni son taux de cholestrol. Le corps fonctionne plein. On ne se soucie pas. Lhiver dernier, en pleine promenade, une de mes chevilles a bloqu, jai d revenir clochepied chez-moi, une demi-heure de sautillement sur une patte. Quelque chose de cette insouciance est morte l. Maintenant je sais quil y a de larthrose, maintenant je dois faire attention. Prendre soin du corps. Il commence geindre ici et l. Et ce nest quun dbut Vieillir. Lavenir se rtrcit mes petits amis. Crpuscule. Un jour, on ne pourra plus. La vieillesse quest-ce que cest? Vieillir, quest-ce que cest? Peut-tre que je ne le sais pas encore vraiment. Cette image ces femmes au Centre hospitalier de soins de longue dure. Leur dchance physique. Ces femmes. Elles ne sont pas toutes sniles. Mais elles portent toutes la couche. Quand je pntre la salle manger o elles sont l, assises depuis trente minutes ou mme une heure, en silence - comment avoir une conversation quand on est presque sourde ou quand la voisine est dmente - elles sont l, elles attendent leur repas; lorsque je franchis le seuil, de fortes odeurs durine et dexcrment me gnent parfois. Elles sont toutes bien mises. On veille ce quelles soient bien mises. Elles sont pour la plupart bien coiffes. On les complimente. Comme vous tes jolie aujourdhui madame. Elles sourient. Un moment de chaleur, un moment de complicit. Elles sont toutes bien vieilles. Elles sont l en attendant. Elles attendent. La terrasse extrieure sappelle ironiquement : la terrasse de la joie. Il y en a une qui fume l, elle fume la vie qui lui reste, elle fume sa solitude, ses 85 ans, une cigarette aprs lautre, sans interruption. Un jour je lui ai dit bonjour madame . Elle ma rpondu avec colre : pourquoi bonjour? Cest mauvais jour quil faut dire. Et voil pour mes clichs de gentillesse. Ma vitalit tait un affront. Depuis ce temps, je ne fais que lui sourire sans parler. Jai peur de me faire mordre. Ces femmes. Il y a 25 ou 30 ans, elles taient comme moi. Lide que je peux devenir comme lune delles me hante. Je me croyais labri. Non, pas moi. Maintenant, ma confiance seffrite. Cela fait trois ans que cela dure. Trois ans que je vais voir ma mre cloue dans ce lieu. Elle y a hurl, insult le personnel, griff, exig quon la traite comme une reine, comme une adulte, comme une personne. Maintenant elle ne demande plus que de petites choses. Que le caf soit chaud le matin. Il nest jamais chaud. Elle a 93 ans. Elle est dcharne. Elle a des plaies de lit terriblement douloureuses. Elle est bourre de mdicaments. Comment puis-je accepter quune chose semblable puisse marriver moi? Moi! Et si ctait vrai que je vieillisse moi aussi comme ces femmes? Marquise, si mon visage A quelques traits un peu vieux, Souvenez-vous qu mon ge Vous ne vaudrez gure mieux. (Corneille)

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Une femme dans la chambre d ct. Des photos delle plus jeune. Belle, trs belle. Une photo de son mari, de ses filles, de sa maison. Apparemment, une vie russie. O sontils maintenant? Son mari est mort. Ses choses sont disparues. Ses filles vieillissent aussi. Elles la visitent parfois. Un jour elle ma dit : Jai peur de la mort. Mes filles aussi elles ont peur de la mort, mais elles ne le disent pas. Je lui parle quelquefois quand ma mre dort. Jai de laffection pour cette femme que je connais peine. Ce qui lui reste de beaut mattendrit. Faites de beaux rves, lui dis-je un soir, avant de la quitter. Rver, cest la seule chose quil me reste vivre maintenant, me dit-elle. ~~~ Non non. Pas maintenant. Plus tard. Loin loin. Mais je sais compter. Tout a est une question de calcul pur et simple. Dans 25 ans. Dans 30 ans. Dans trois mille ans. Jamais. Maintenant! ~~~ Quest-ce que cest maintenant? Quelle est cette peur que jai maintenant? Mais elle nest pas au rendez-vous maintenant! O est-elle? Comment se fait-il que ce que je prends pour rel, si invitablement rel, si incontournable, si indiscutablement rel ne soit pas l quand je veux y regarder de plus prs? ~~~ Vieillir mest tomb dessus cet t comme une grosse peur qui ma quasiment crabouille. Durant quelques semaines, jai t vieille. Vieille comme Finie. ~~~ Quand je regarde maintenant, quand je regarde vraiment, quand toutes les peurs se dissolvent dans un regard qui na aucune attente que celle de lattention elle-mme, ce que je vois cest que jaime vivre. Ce que je vois, cest aimer. Ce que je vois, cest consentir. Une plnitude de consentement. Un seul vrai samadhi teint les flammes de la peur et du mcontentement. O est la vieillesse? Comment peut-elle disparatre aussi facilement que les objets qui se dtriorent et dont on doit se dbarrasser. Suis-je un objet qui se dtriore? Est-il possible que ces femmes que je regarde avec un regard qui nest

pas le leur, aiment vivre aussi? Malgr leur dchance. Malgr ~~~ Cet homme g rencontr au march. Il semblait si content que je lui adresse la parole. Je suis peut-tre la seule personne qui il parlera aujourdhui. Il mendiait littralement de lattention comme ces femmes au Centre dhbergement. Jaurais voulu prolonger la conversation. Comment? Je nai pas su trouver les mots. Sa solitude mest rentre droit dedans. Toute la solitude de tous ces vieux et de toutes ces vieilles, ces vieillards et ces vieillardes, toute leur fragilit me rentre parfois dans le cur comme un poignard. ~~~ M. Low ma dit un jour : Cest remarquable ce que les gens peuvent vivre quand ils ne voient pas leur vie de lextrieur. Quand nous la regardons de lextrieur, la situation nous semble insupportable. Rvoltante. Vue de lintrieur, intimement, la situation est compltement diffrente. ~~~ Tous ces vieux et toutes ces vieilles, est-ce que je ne contribue pas leur fabrication avec mon regard, mme et surtout lorsque jen fais des objets de ma compassion ? Et moi, lorsque je me regarde comme un corps qui se dtriore, suis-je englue dans le reflet? Fausse identit? Et pourtant, le corps geint ici et l. Et ce nest quun dbut Quel est mon visage avant que mes parents ne soient ns? O est la jeunesse o est la vieillesse ici? Question admirable. Elle seule permet de changer la direction du regard. Cette question est lAmie dans ma demeure, et elle nest pas porte sur le cosmtique. Elle suggre plutt que soient enlevs tous les miroirs. O se dirige le regard quand il ny a plus ni extrieur, ni intrieur? Quel est mon visage dans la totale noirceur? Cest une affaire de suprme importance. Mais je dois consentir la perte. Comme le dit Hakuin : La perte est lil du zen . Y

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Getting Older
Jean Low
One is getting older from the moment one is born. In the early years, this is good news. When one is five, one looks forward to a sixth birthday with pleasure and anticipation. And when one is going to be 10, enter the two digit numbers, that is really exciting. Up to the age of twenty, getting older means more autonomy, a wider world, more freedom. From what I remember of the twenties, I didnt give much thought one way or the other to getting older, but once thirty hovered on the horizon there was some consternation. A major shift getting older became more negative. With fifty approaching, getting older took on an ominous note. With seventy there comes a feeling of surprise, of disbelief. My father had died in his early seventies. There was sadness of course, but I remember feeling he had lived a good life and it was reasonable that he should die now that he was old. 75 I was now older than he was when he died. I realized he was after all quite young at the time. One does not feel oneself getting older, the world gets younger. I find it very difficult to judge peoples ages these days when someone says they are sixty, I am amazed, they look so young. Of course, various things give one hints that time is going by: having had perfect eyesight all my life, suddenly I could not read the labels in the supermarket. Then I got PMR, a type of arthritis that people get only after 65. That brought to an end holidays of cycling and hiking in Europe and my attendance at sesshin. After three years the PMR went, as I had originally been told that it probably would by the doctors. But I had hardly had a chance to enjoy the relief when my heart had something to say. After an angiogram I was told I had a blocked artery and a stent was inserted to make it work again. Somewhere along the way, my hearing started to go. I could characterize getting older as a gradual fading from visibility. At a certain age a woman realizes she is no longer so visible, she no longer gets the looks she is used to. That type of identity goes. Then when all the children leave home, the identity of mother, in the sense of being at the center of a small world, goes. The children form their own worlds and are their own centers. A major part of my identity had been tied up in Zen for many years; apart from the spiritual work, there was the sense of self from filling various rolls on sesshin: head cook, lead chant, monitor. When I could no longer attend sesshin, my visibility faded there as well. So in a way the aging process brings about the same work that we do on sesshin, as long as we dont fight it. I am not a woman, I am not a mother, I am not a Zen Buddhist, I am not a human being. It can be hard work, painful, just as sesshin is hard work and often painful, but it can also be releasing, freeing. As long as we dont try to turn the cart to the north when it wants to go south. Y

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Jarrive o je suis tranger

Chre Maman, Ces vers de Louis Aragon mavaient interpell jadis luniversit, la fois parce que dans la douceur certaine du pome (dcouverte dun changement non dnu de beaut) : Cest le grand jour qui se fait vieux Les arbres sont beaux en automne Mais lenfant quest-il devenu Je me regarde et je mtonne De ce voyageur inconnu il y a, superpos, le fatalisme inquiet du deuxime principe de la thermodynamique (irrversibilit des phnomnes physiques ou entropie) : Rien nest prcaire comme vivre Rien comme tre nest passager Cest un peu fondre comme le givre Et pour le vent tre lger Jarrive o je suis tranger Ayant convenu dcrire un article sur le vieillissement (je tentends rire du haut de tes quatre-vingt-deux ans) je me suis heurt la page blanche, cette impression qui fait cho chez Aragon : je suis arriv o je suis tranger. Je nai pu que constater mon incomptence en cette matire. Enfin jy suis peine arriv, ce qui est peut-tre pire. Et en y rflchissant, plutt que des ides, ce sont des motions qui vinrent : parmi elles, la fortune immense de pouvoir tre assis ici tcrire cette lettre un peu publique. Jai fait comme dans un atelier de dessin, esquissant quelques lignes en posant les yeux sur le modle. A peine la csure de la vie, dis-je en optimiste, fort de maux et fragilits encore grables, je me targue comme un adolescent de

pouvoir parler de tout mais mon assurance faiblit soudain. Cest alors que ton image se dresse devant moi, comme une image de force devant la fragilit, dfiant celle-ci mais avec respect, vitalit et srnit. A quatre-vingts ans et des poussires, tu es limage idale de la continuit de la vie, la continuit que mes rflexes, allergiques ce qui transitoire, me demandent de croire. Mais de quoi sagit-il ? Depuis lenfance je suis bris par cette tension apprise entre la rupture quest la mort, le vieillissement son vestibule et la certitude dautre part, cho de la pratique, quil ny a ni naissance, ni mort et, en te voyant, ni vieillesse. Cest cette tension que je suis tranger. Car en accompagnant cette rflexion et la chance de tcrire, me viennent les exemples de ceux et celles dont les parents sont languir dans un foyer dhbergement souvent en colre, sans espoir ou sans mmoire. Toi, tu vois grandir tes enfants et petits-enfants, en leur faisant le sucre la crme convoit : ton espoir et ta joie sont en eux, sont eux, pourraient-on dire. Malgr des vocations de mobilit rduite, malgr les petits maux et les prcautions nouvelles, rien ne test arriv que tu naies devis. Quitter ta maison, abandonner ton permis de conduire lt dernier et ta voiture, ont t des gestes de dchirement menant vers une plus grande libert alors quon aurait pu y voir autant de nouvelles limites imposes par la perte dacuit de vision ou des rflexes ou leffritement des forces. Et soudain, je dcouvre que lobligation que tu timposais, par exemple de repeindre un mur du haut de lescabeau, est leve. Jai ainsi not que par ta prsence et ta vivacit, ce que tu ne peux plus faire ne reprsente pas un rtrcissement de la vie calcule en termes dactivits, mais plutt lillustration que tout rside dans le maintien de

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la foi dans la vie, loccasion exprime par un recueillement spirituel ou religieux, toujours par une prsence et un engagement face ceux que tu aimes. La plthore dactivits qui happent au quotidien le travailleur que je suis et qui ma souvent fait vieillir prmaturment, na plus cours ni de signification pour toi. Le refrain dAragon pourtant me colle la peau comme un cailloux dans le soulier : on ne sait pas, il ny a pas de rponse ultime ce que sera pour moi la vieillesse. Je regarde autour de moi et je me rappelle que, de par ma nature, je connatrai la vieillesse, la maladie et la mort ; voil lorigine de la douleur. Mais ma pratique me rappelle aussi la les quatre nobles vrits et le chemin de notre enseignement : que les douleurs sont relles, quelles sont ntres, que nous pouvons agir sur elles, et cette action cest le sacr du quotidien. Chez toi qui nes pas adepte du zafu, lexpression des quatre nobles vrits est vivante. Dans le quotidien des tches toutes accomplies comme si elles taient sacres, dans loptimisme et la certitude que la vie, mme des moments o la douleur aurait pu mener se replier sur soi, rsidait prcisment dans un geste damour et de gnrosit envers lautre, envers nous. Et le cailloux dans le soulier, cest le koan, le balancement entre cette faon que tu as de

vivre ou de mesurer le temps, et le vertige que jai visiter certaines personnes de ma connaissance qui ne sont plus que lombre delles-mmes, entoures de fantmes et de montages savants de photos de famille quelles ne sauraient reconnatre. Puis je te suis, dans tes lectures de contemporains emprunts la bibliothque du quartier. Oui je balance. Mais je comprends maintenant que les vers du Stra du Diamant cits plus bas, qui mavaient parus dune grande beaut mais dun pessimisme accompli (entropie, destine) au dbut de ma pratique sont de fait dune grande luminosit, mais que la source de stabilit, cette illusion constante, cette cl perdue loin du lampadaire que nous cherchons sous lui parce que cest plus rassurant, nous la fait craindre. Et cela que je crains tu le vis avec srnit et men fais un don merveilleux. Ltranger ainsi se retrouve chez lui nayant jamais quitt sa demeure. Ainsi faut-il voir ce monde phmre Une toile laube, une bulle dans le torrent Un clair dans un nuage dt Une flamme vacillante, un fantme et un songe Merci chre maman. Y Pierre Lanoix

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Getting Older
Alison Edwards
One day last summer as I was getting out of my car, a little stiff after a long drive home, my old friend and neighbour said to me, Alison, you look just like a little old lady. I retorted, Harold, I am a little old lady. We both laughed. I dont know why he did but I laughed because of course I knew it wasnt true. We have little old ladies in our condo complex but I am not one of them. Am I? I have had two friends who have given me different perspectives on getting older that I keep coming back to, again and again. One friend was a 95 year-old gentleman who told me, Be glad youve got wrinkles. How else would you know you were getting old? How else, indeed? Often, when I catch a glimpse of myself reflected in a window, or when I really look in a mirror, or when I feel a little stiff getting out of the car, I will think. Oh, I am getting old. It always comes as a surprise. The other friend is a twenty-year-old the daughter of a friend, and a friend in her own right. We have an easy, comfortable, open relationship. Last spring Iris came to visit from her home in California. We went to Montreal together walked and talked and shopped and walked and ate and walked. We walked everywhere, never once took the Metro or got a cab. We were having a wonderful time, seemingly oblivious to the difference in our ages. And then, out of the blue she asked me, Alison, do you feel young? Her question was completely unexpected, and I found myself at a loss for words. I dont remember what I replied, but I have thought of that question many times since. It is a good question, such a different question from Do you feel old? I have tried to answer her, in my head, many times since then. Do I feel young? Yes, absolutely. I feel the same as Ive always felt. I remember my mother telling me when she was 81 that she felt 18. I know what she meant. And yet, there is a difference. I am sadder. When I was young and made mistakes, I felt that they could always be rectified, that in the future I could make up for the mistakes of the past. Now I know that it can sometimes be too late. I have more memories. Sometimes they blind-side me; they come out of the blue with a force that takes my breath away. Even happy memories are tinged with sadness the bitter-sweet quality that poets often associate with aging. I also feel more keenly the sadness that comes with awareness of the worlds sorrows the sadness of poverty, sickness, war, injustice. But at the same time I am happier. There can be a penetrating sweetness of the moment, a delight in simple things: the birds at the feeder, the taste of chocolate melting on the tongue, the sheer enjoyment of having coffee and conversation with a friend. The world too presents its joys: the compassionate response of strangers in an emergency, acts of spontaneous generosity, unexpected gestures of forgiveness, the wonderful creativity of artists, the exuberance of children. The sadness of the older me is no longer all-encompassing; there is a recognition of the space behind it, of the fact that it too is ephemeral. The older me is certain of less and the place of certainty is now given over to curiosity, to an interest in the moment that is more expansive, more open, more free. And so I can now say, in my older age, that every day is a good day. Y

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LArt du Gandhara
Jacques Lesprance
La rgion gographique du Gandhara correspond, dans le cadre gographique actuel, aux territoires du nord-ouest de lInde, du Pakistan et de lAfghanistan. Cette rgion formait un carrefour aux confluents des grandes civilisations de lAntiquit : lInde, lAsie centrale et la Chine dune part, la Perse et le monde mditerranen dautre part. Cette rgion tait parcourue par la route de la soie reliant le monde occidental grco-romain avec lInde et la Chine. Les liens entre le Gandhara et lest de lInde ont toujours t trs troits, mme lorsque la rgion devint province de lempire perse achmnide du 6e au 4e sicles av. J.-C. Lexpdition dAlexandre le Grand jusquen Inde en 330-335 av. J.-C. eut une influence majeure dans lintroduction de lhellnisme dans la rgion. Aprs la dsintgration de lempire perse, les Grecs devinrent les matres de la valle de Peshawar. Ils vont sy maintenir jusqu environ 50 av. J.-C. Le Gandhara devint une province de lempire indien Maurya au 3 e sicle av. J.-C. avec Asoka (qui a rgn entre 273-232 av. J.C.). Celui-ci encouragea la propagation du bouddhisme dans toutes les rgions sous son influence. Il fit du bouddhisme la religion dtat, renfora la doctrine bouddhiste de non-violence (ahimsa) et interdit les Esprit avec une offrande de fleurs, sacrifices danimaux. 3e sicle, Gandhara, Hadda, stuc. La civilisation On y voit linfluence dune oeuvre romaine Antinous Vertumnus de bouddhiste florissante la priode dHadrien. du Gandhara fut finalement dtruite par linvasion des Huns hephthalites au 6e sicle apr. J.-C. De la rencontre des cultures grecque et indienne allait natre un art original, appel art du Gandhara, qui perdura du premier au 7 e sicle. Ce fut un heureux mariage entre les techniques artistiques de figurations grecques avec liconographie bouddhiste indienne.

Le bouddhisme est indissociable de cette cole artistique clbre par sa statuaire comportant une abondance de dtails dans lhabillement et les motifs

Tte monumentale du Bouddha, 3e sicle, Gandhara, Kharkai, pierre de schiste.

Empreintes du Bouddha, 2 e sicle, Inde, Madras, schiste.

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dcoratifs ainsi quune reprsentation des visages trs similaires aux divinits grco-romaines. Les artistes du Gandhara taient proccups par une reprsentation fidle et trs dtaille du sujet. Ce sont les artistes grco-bouddhistes du Gandhara qui les premiers avec lcole Mathura vont reprsenter le corps du Bouddha, alors que sa prsence ntait auparavant voque que par des symboles (lotus, parasol, roue, empreintes de pas). Une srie dattributs physiques (parures, attitudes et gestes) vont ds lors tre codifis et se perptuer jusqu nos jours : les six gestes de base, le chignon (ushnisha) de cheveux boucls, le point entre les deux yeux (uma). Cest probablement linfluence culturelle et artistique grecque de reprsenter les divinits sous forme humaine qui est lorigine de ce dveloppement dans les reprsentations iconographiques du Bouddha. Peut-tre aussi que les artistes ont dbut en voulant seulement reprsenter le Prince Siddhartha sous son apparence humaine de Bodhisattva et quensuite ils en sont venus le reprsenter comme le Bouddha Sakyamuni. Les premires sculptures de Bodhisattvas les montrent portant des turbans, bijoux et linge de mousseline, toutes des variantes de lhabillement traditionnel des nobles indiens et kuskans. Les bijoux, eux, sont similaires ceux crs par les artisans grecs et samartiens de la mme poque. La faon de reprsenter les pisodes de la vie du Bouddha sur diffrents panneaux conscutifs est un apport de lart romain du bas-relief. Le Bouddha du Gandhara a un profil classique inspir des reprsentations dAppolon : cheveux boucls, figure jeune, les yeux en amande, long nez droit, lvres pleines et corps masculin. Les basreliefs qui laccompagnent voquent les scnes hellnistiques : on y retrouve des enfants soutenant des guirlandes, des atlantes, des scnes dionysiaques et des motifs architecturaux pseudo-corinthiens feuilles dacanthe. Les Bodhisattvas portent la moustache, les cheveux longs et sont pars de guirlandes de

plantes. Certaines figures tant des portraits, il est possible didentifier les diffrentes ethnies qui se sont croises sur la route des caravanes. Les principaux matriaux utiliss pour la fabrication des oeuvres religieuses taient la pierre de schiste grise qui contenait souvent des particules de mica et la pierre de phyllite verte. On utilisait aussi la terre cuite et souvent le Tte du Bouddha, 5 e sicle, Gandhara, Pakistan, basalte. pltre avec des moules pour raliser des stucs. tant donn que la pierre est un matriau plus dur que ceux-ci, les vestiges qui nous sont parvenus sont surtout des sculptures excutes dans la pierre de schiste. la mme poque une autre cole artistique connue sous le nom de Mathur se dveloppait 800 km au sud-est en Inde. Comme les artistes y travaillaient la pierre locale de grs rouge moins dure, leurs oeuvres en taient plus stylises et avaient moins de dtails dcoratifs que dans le Gandhara. On peut aussi y voir une plus grande influence et fidlit stylistique la tradition indienne. Les archologues et les historiens sont en dsaccord pour dterminer avec certitude laquelle des deux coles a initi le changement de reprsentation symbolique celle danthropomorphique. Ils sentendent sur le fait que cela cest produit dans cette rgion gographique incluant les deux coles. Une des raisons de cet tat de faits est la trs petite quantit de vestiges qui ont survcu tous les changements politiques et culturels qui ont eu lieu dans cette rgion en raison de sa position gographique entre le MoyentBodhisattva, 2e sicle, Gandhara, Pakistan, schiste.

sinfluencrent mutuellement. En Inde (valle du Gange et de la Jamuna), cest Mathura (Madura), capitale dune province de lest de lEmpire Kusana, que le plus grand nombre dimages primitives du Bouddha furent dcouvertes, fabriques dans le grs rouge typique de ce style. Les sculpteurs tiraient leur exprience de deux sources traditionnelles : les images des dieux et hros royaux et les indications iconographiques de la littrature et de la tradition orale concernant les caractristiques corporelles particulires au Bouddha, ces derni-res permettant de le distinguer sans quivoque en tant que personnage religieux. Un vtement monastique colle au corps et laisse libre le bras droit. Dans les premires images, le crne est ras (comme cest la rgle chez les moines bouddhistes) mais, plus tard, il sornera dun pais chignon en spirale (lorigine prcise de cet ornement est sujet de controverse parmi les rudits). Le Bouddha se tient seul ou en haut-relief dans un ensemble. Tte du Bouddha, Il est parfois assis en 2-3e sicle, Gandhara, posture Pakistan, schiste. traditionnelle (yogsana), ou en lotus (padmsana) dans un courant plus tardif. Nanmoins, dans le style Mathura primitif, il nest pas assis sur un lotus mais sur un trne orn de lions (simhsana) et lorsquil est reprsent debout, un lion se tient entre ses pieds. Toujours partir des textes canoniques, les artistes, probablement sur commande des moines, ont ajout dautres dtails iconographiques : les lobes allongs, par exemple, devinrent une des caractristiques principales des images du Bouddha. Parfois, la tradition artistique produisit ses propres dtails : les images de style Mathura tardif, linstar

Bouddha debout, 5 e sicle, Inde, Mathura, pierre de grs rouge.

On pense quau dbut, les deux coles de Gandhara et de Mathura dvelopprent chacune leur propre style spcifique de reprsentation et que ce nest que plus tard vers le 2 e sicle quelles

Sakyamuni pratiquant des austrits, 2-3e sicle, Gandhara, Pakistan, Lahore, schiste.

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Bouddha assis, 2-3 e sicle, Gandhara, Priode de lEmpire Kusana, schiste.

Le geste le plus rpandu des images primitives, assises ou debout, est celui de labsence de peur (abhaya), la main paume tendue vers lavant. Linfluence du style Gandhara est parfois perceptible dans la faon dont le vtement monastique est

du Bouddha. Ces premires reprsentations dans la pierre nous inspirent par leur perfection dexcution ainsi que la grandeur et la magnificence qui sen dgagent. Du fait de linfluence sculpturale du monde antique grec avec laquelle nous sommes
Bouddha debout, 3 e sicle, Mathura.

reprsent : on trouve la toge de dessus (sanght) sur certaines sculptures alors quelle est normalement absente des images de Mathura. La faon dont les toges sont drapes montre parfois les plis plutt larges et vagues du style Gandhara, tout fait distinct des toges collant au corps de Mathura. De telles diffrences sont frappantes au cours des priodes primitives, mais les influences mutuelles dune rgion sur lautre donnrent naissance certains styles composites, tandis que les postures et les gestes symboliques devinrent petit petit strotyps pour tout le monde bouddhique. Tout cela, bien entendu, beaucoup plus tard. La statuaire du 5 e sicle exhibe une sensibilit unique de la figure humaine qui est mditative et sereine. Le corps a un model subtil et le visage resplendit avec illumination, ici le divin est suggr par le fin drap de la robe, la courbe exquise des mains et les yeux demi clos

familiers, nous avons naturellement une affinit avec ces reprsentations. Il est quand mme admirable que ces oeuvres, ralises il y environ 2000 ans dans une contre si loigne, puissent encore nous mouvoir et nous toucher profondment. Y

Le miracle de Sravasti, 4e sicle, Gandhara, schiste.

Le Grand Bouddha (53 m de haut) et les niches et chapelles creuses dans la roche, 3e sicle, Bamiyan, Afghanistan.

Les deux Bouddhas gants de la valle de Bamiyan ont t compltement dtruits par les Talibans en mars 2001 (au moyen dexplosifs et de tirs dartillerie).

Effie
Fred Bloom
In the summers when she was a little girl, Effie lived with her grandmother who rented cottages along the north shore of Gypsy Pond. Each visiting family had its own cottage but everyone had meals together in the big house. In the 1940s this was called The American Plan. Effie ironed the starched linen dresser clothes for the cottages with irons heated on the woodstove, and watched the waitresses fly through the swinging doors between the kitchen and the dining room balancing serving trays with one hand loaded with platters of steaming pancakes and little ceramic individual-serving pitchers of hot maple syrup. Effie would often reminisce about those days in vivid detail. I occasionally suggested that she write about that time but she was not the type to take herself seriously in that way. After high school she married a local boy who worked for the State on the roads, and they had two sons and a daughter. The camps were closed down, and when the grandmother died, the farm came to Effies father. He rented the house to Effie and her husband and it was there that she lived and raised her children. She knew the shoreline, and where to find every kind of flower, root, nut, and berry throughout the season. She had her special rock where she would go to have a few minutes alone. She served meals in the old dishes, made rhubarb pies and strawberry preserves in Spring and apple pies and pear jam in Fall. At Christmas she decorated the house in the old way with fresh greens and strings of popped corn and wild cranberries. And in all seasons, whatever the troubles of the moment, she could find solace at her rock, or walking along the ever-changing shoreline. There was a timeless quality to those years when Effie talked about them, as though she were describing a mythical land that existed once upon a time. It came to an end when the father announced that he was selling the property to finance his retirement. From there Effies life became a one-woman diaspora. She brought the old dishes with her to the new house, and set it up to maintain as much of the feeling of what she loved as she could. She planted flowers, and decorated for Christmas, and her kids continued to grow up. In the summers they rented a cottage on a lake, and it was nice, but she was never to feel fully at home again. During those years, her life was dominated by her mother calling several times a day, to make demands and to berate her, and by her daughters returning home with an infant son following a brief, failed marriage. She raised the grandson, Jamie, as her own, and doted on her mothers every whim, and at times when her spirit flagged she would say that her nerves were getting bad again. Now the daughter lives in Arizona with her new husband, who seems to be most of the time on assignment in someplace like Malaysia. Jamie is in his twenties and in recovery from drugs. Effie got through her mothers death and then her fathers death. The $150,000 that the father got for the farm, or the two thirds of it that was left, came to her, though by that time the farm would have been worth three or four times that sum. While she continued to live her usual life, even after her husband retired, and continued to stay in the cottage on the lake for the whole summer, every summer, a more and more expensive proposition, Alden continued to pay the bills, not telling Effie that the money was

26

coming out of the inheritance, until it was gone and he had no option but to tell her, knowing that it would precipitate a cataclysm. But, however big the cataclysm however enraged, overwhelmed, inconsolable, and unforgiving Effie was, it did not change the inevitable consequences. They moved successively first to a smaller house, then to an apartment, then to a smaller, government-subsidized, apartment, each with less room for the armoires and hutches that held the dishes and linens, so, each time, having to give away more of the things that could bring back the past. There were no more summers on the lake. She had a hip replaced, then a breast removed, then a lung removed. Still, she would maintain her little patch of flower garden and decorate for the holidays, until a few months ago when she started to be more forgetful and confused, started losing weight and the old flash of intelligence began to precipitously fade. There followed the torturous drama of visits to the emergency room, the hospitalizations, returns home where she would keep Alden up all night because she could not sleep, sending Alden, himself, to the emergency room with chest pain. She finally got sick enough that she was allowed to stay in the nursing home in peace. I went to see her there once, and I talked with Alden, who told me that he felt guilty when he saw the Spring flowers come up in their little patch of yard, because she was no longer able to enjoy them. Last night he called to say that it was over, and that he had been with her most of that day, though she was not aware of him. He was on his way back to the nursing home, now with Michelle, the daughter, who had come from Arizona, and the two sons. He just had to let me know, he said. ~~~ As Alan Ginsberg famously wrote in a youthful exuberance, I am of this time and of this place. Our lives are embedded in a particular history, and in time come to embody that history, become a kind of monument to it, as Effies life became a kind of monument to a certain way of life, a certain unassuming graciousness, mixed, of course, with brutality, hardship, and grief, which was rural Maine in those days. Commenting, on his poem, Berry Picking, which he swears he wrote down word for word as his old father spoke it at the kitchen table, about going out into the hills in the old days to pick berries in season, and bringing them home to process into jars of preserves and jams, Gary Snyder reminded his young listeners that they too would one day look back on their life as on a lost world. Those young people, me among them, were vaguely disconcerted to be told that. We did not want to hear about life as the story of loss. When my grandmother went into the dark and unused dining room of our ranch house in suburban St. Louis late on Friday afternoon in the darkening light, and covering her head with a scarf, and her face with her hands, and rocking to the left and to the right in front of the lit candles, blessed the Sabbath as she had been taught to do as a young woman, in poverty, in pre-war Poland, it is the same as when my wife now refuses to send email, but

27

rather continues to write letters on her pale salmon stationery. It is the same as when Effie served dinner on the old platters. It is a holding on to what you understand to be your life. And the young people looking on, or hearing the story at the kitchen table from the old guy, sometimes laughing but also sometimes just staring off in a kind of reverie, are being faced with a reality they do not want to hear about, but still sometimes have to wonder at- life and the passage of time. In our youth we try to resist having to feel reverence for life. We want to be able to live as though it will go on forever, and as though life is free for the taking. The children will run into the room in the course of some game and momentarily be fixed by the sudden presence of Grandma with her head covered, and her face covered, rocking and intoning some indecipherable words. They are transfixed for a moment, but they quite easily shake off that spell and their play resumes where it left off. They will not reflect further on their brief apprehension of life as the story of loss. But, oddly, it is in its loss that we discover its wonder. This is what is possible when we are old. I can now look back on the walk home from school along a concrete city sidewalk, past hedged front yards and along the iron fence of a cemetery, in chilly sunlight flashing through the browning leaves, coming home for lunch to a sandwich at a kitchen table with that days episode of Our Gal Sunday on the radio, and what was then just the ordinary routine of daily life reveals itself as a magic world, now that it is lost. The small remembered details of that life, the patterned oil cloth on the table or the clack of the old-style catch on the refrigerator door, have a kind of magic charm, an iconic power to bring a moment of the past back again. It is not only an appreciation; it is a true reverence that it calls forth, as before something absolute. We live in a present which nothing can grasp or hold on to. Yet, each moment can be nothing other than what it is, and is in this sense absolute, the absolute truth of that moment. You might say that the present is absolute and eternal because it is constantly and

inevitably being lost. In being lost it becomes a past, and as a past it is immutable. So it is the past which can give us occasionally a glimpse of the absolute and eternal nature of the present, of actual life, of sitting at the kitchen table eating a sandwich, which at that moment was obscured to the little boy who was thinking about what would happen when he got back to school, or that this sandwich was not what he would have liked best. It is only revealed to me in its wondrous perfection now that it is a lost world. Everything is fulfilled just as it is; this is the same as to say that everything falls away. Effies dishes commemorate loss. The past becomes iconic because it is lost. In being lost it becomes sacred. It reveals the sacredness of our life. This knowledge of the sacred is the blessing of old age. Freud, in Mourning and Melancholia, described mourning as a process in which what is lost is elevated to the realm of the ideal. He might have said the realm of the sacred. But grieving is also acceptance of loss itself, the acceptance of the transience of all things, the great truth. As we enter into the fullness of this loss, the fullness of emptiness, life in its most ordinary manifestation can finally be finally real. In old age, our world lost, it is to this sublime emptiness that we return. As I gaze at it now, the little white ceramic syrup pitcher which sits on my desk, a present from Effie, seems to me not unlike the skull which I see in the old paintings on the desks of Renaissance scholars, there to remind them of mortality, the impermanence of all things. Y

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Homlie de Vimalakrti sur le corps humain

Amis, le corps compos des quatre grands lments est transitoire, fragile, indigne de confiance et dbile; il est inconsistant, prissable, de courte dure, douloureux, rempli de maladies et sujet aux changements. Ainsi donc, amis, le corps tant le rceptacle de nombreuses maladies, les gens aviss ne sy appuient point Le corps, ne pouvant tre saisi, est pareil la boule dcume. Le corps, ne durant pas longtemps, est pareil la bulle deau. Le corps, issu de la soif des passions, est pareil au mirage. Le corps, dpourvu de moelle, est pareil au tronc du bananier. Hlas! Le corps, assemblage dos et de tendons, est pareil la mcanique. Le corps, issu des mprises, est pareil la magie. Le corps, vision fausse, est pareil au songe. Le corps, rplique des actes antrieurs, est pareil au reflet. Le corps, dpendant des conditions, est pareil lcho. Le corps, qui se dissipe et se dissout, est pareil au nuage. Le corps, prissant instantanment et instable, est pareil lclair. Le corps, naissant de conditions multiples, est sans matre. Le corps est, comme la terre, immobile. Le corps est, comme leau, impersonnel. Le corps est, comme le feu, sans vie. Le corps est, comme le vent, sans individualit. Le corps est, comme lther, sans nature propre. Le corps, rceptacle des quatre grands lments, est irrel. Le corps, qui nest pas un moi et nappartient pas au moi, est vide. Le corps, pareil au brin dherbe, au morceau de bois, au mur, la motte de terre, au reflet, est inintelligent. Le corps, m par le vent comme une mcanique, est insensible. Le corps, accumulation de pus et dexcrments, est sale. Le corps, qui a comme loi non seulement dtre toujours lav et mass mais encore de se briser et dtre dtruit, est faux. Le corps est tourment par les quatre cent quatre maladies. Le corps, toujours vaincu par la vieillesse, est pareil au vieux puits. Le corps, qui aboutit la mort, est indtermin quant son terme. Le corps, qui renferme cinq agrgats, dix-huit lments et douze bases de connaissance, est pareil aux cinq tueurs, aux quatre serpents venimeux et au village vide. Il faut donc que, pleins de dgot et de rpugnance pour un corps de cette sorte, vous tourniez vos aspirations vers le corps du Tathgata. Homlie de Vimalakrti sur le corps du Tathgata Amis, le corps du Tathgata, cest le corps de la loi, n du savoir. Le corps du Tathgata est n du mrite, n du don; - n de la moralit, n de la concentration, n de la sagesse, n de la dlivrance, n du savoir et de la vision de la dlivrance; - n de la bienveillance, de la compassion, de la joie et de lindiffrence; n du don, de la discipline et de la matrise de soi; - n des dix bons chemins de lacte; - n de la patience et de la gentillesse; - n des racines de bien rsultant dune forte nergie; - n des extases, des librations, des concentrations et des recueillements; - n de lrudition, de la sagesse et des moyens salvifiques; - n des trente-sept auxiliaires de lillumination; - n de la quitude et de linspection; - n des dix forces, n des quatre assurances, n des dix-huit attributs exclusifs des Buddha; - n de toutes les perfections; - n des six pntrations et de la triple science; - n de la destruction de tous les mauvais dharma et n de la runion de tous les bons dharma; - n de la vrit, de la saintet et de la diligence. Amis, le corps du Tathgata est n dinnombrables actes bons. Cest vers un tel corps que vous devez tourner vos aspirations et, pour dtruire les maladies passionnelles de tous les tres, vous devez produire la pense de la suprme et parfaite illumination. Y Extrait de : Lenseignement de Vimalakrti, (Vimalakrtinirdesa), Traduit et annot par tienne Lamotte, Institut Orientaliste Louvain-La-Neuve, 1987, pp.132-140.

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The Instruction of Old Age

Sarah Webb
Friends used to joke that the way the people in the Center were aging, we were going to come in for sesshin some year and find ourselves going around in kinhin with a bunch of walkers. Unfortunately, sesshin is not infinitely malleable, and I doubt well see the walkers, even if we need them, or the people who would be shuffling along behind them. The things in our lives change, even practice. And change, as always, has both loss and possibility. As I have aged, arthritis and other physical problems have threatened to close off some of the deeper things in my life. No longer able to backpack or hike long distances, I do not go far into the wilderness. But I do camp in my van, swim in the lake, and watch the birds everywhere I go. The prospect of losing sesshin with its intense work and the contact with Albert and the people of the sangha has been the hardest challenge. Adaptions here too have been possible, including attending only part of sesshin. The adaption has had its cost. Sesshin no longer generates the intense states, the insights that it did when I was younger. It is not so separate from the rest of my life, however. I used to have a psychic economy for my year: sesshin, slow silting up, sesshin. Thats the way I viewed it, anyway. Now my life is my life. Sesshin is not as intense and special, the rest of my life less Not-Sesshin. The attitude I have fumbled my way to and it is not clearly defined in my mind is that zen and my life are one and the same and that my zen-life-practice just happens. It makes me nervous sometimes to approach practice that way. I wonder, am I just being apathetic, not making an effort that needs to be made? Ive made so many efforts over the years and come up against the same wall. Have I just given up? But this is the practice possible at this time. I used to think that if I ever awakened, it would take place in some clarified state in sesshin. I dont think that any longer. Partly thats because I no longer have sesshins with high, clarified states (with concomitant trying to grasp and intensify what seemed like promising directions). Partly its because I am sensing that, for me at least, that isnt the way my practice can go. Maybe some turn around will take place. And maybe it wont. It doesnt seem to matter as much, like a lot of things dont matter as much. Not that I dont yearn or find myself suddenly tearing up over a phrase I read or stopping short, pierced by the swoop of a flock of birds. But thats like some subterranean stream suddenly bubbled to the surface. It goes underneath then, and I walk on. Something is in operation, and I have to trust that it will take me where I need to go. Whether that is to awakening, I dont know, but at least I am walking the path. Words keep coming up from Father Ciszeks He Leadeth Me (via Alberts Thy Will Be Done). Ciszek says, The situations themselves were his will for me. Without saying that there is a God out there directing my life, I find it still possible to trust that something is carrying me along. It used to seem in sesshin that something was instructing me, that the thoughts and makyo were not distractions but instruction that resolved obstacles. For one example, round after round, a science fiction story I had read kept playing and re-playing in my mind. The thoughts culminated in seeing my ex-husband as one of the characters, as a comrade who had fallen in a dangerous game. Seeing him that way, I forgave him, permanently. Similarly, when I write poetry, words appear from nowhere; frequently they are healing words.

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If there is instruction in my life now, and I believe there is, its operation is more hidden. Much of it seems to be by situations, and those situations are shaped by my growing older. Grist for the mill, we say in zen, meaning that everything can be used for practice. Or in my present understanding, everything uses us for practice. The situations that present themselves in aging do seem to have the edge of practice. Our identification with our body may lessen. Obviously it is changing, and in ways we would prefer it didnt. People we know and love disappear into death. Do they live on in some way? Will we live on in some way? As our parents die, we become the next generation that will go, and some of our friends have gone already. Does some essence live on? Are we part of everything? Who are we exactlysomeone who dies? something else? The questions hook into us in a more personal way. Letting gonot some big Letting Go in awakening, but just everyday accepting lossis necessary in aging. We lose people we love. Our children move out, and we see them less often. Our bodies thicken, wrinkle, and twist. Our backs hurt; our hearing is going. We cant find things, recall peoples names, bring up the right words. We see we wont reach long held goalsthe mountain wont get climbed, the book published. In accepting the necessary losses, we erode the ego. I cant do it all. As life becomes more difficult, we simplify. I think of a friend of mine who is 100 years old. She looks a wreck, hair hanging down limp, long hairs in her chin, but her eyes are vivid and bright. She gave up her house and lives in one room in Assisted Living, doesnt drive, obviously doesnt spend much time on her appearance, no longer writes the books she used to publish. But her life is still full. Friends visit her and take her to church, and I take her to the birding group and our writers club. We drive in the country and look at the landscape, and, through the window of her room, she watches the goats in the pasture past the living centers oak trees. I see books of Lutheran theology open

beside her recliner. Sometimes she says she misses her house and her ability to move freely and remember things, but on the whole she has made a satisfactory, simple life. Is simplicity inherently a virtue? I suppose not, but there is less distraction by the endless round of busy-ness and multiplication. For myself, I find myself much more solitary after retiring from teaching and less busy but still sometimes wishing for more simplicity yet. We may be calmer. I know I would never trade my life now for the life I led in my thirties. Looking back, I see time resolved much of the neurosis and mistaken choices of that time. So maybe some wisdom comes with age (and therapy). I suspect my experience is not unusual. We lived our lives. Things that seemed disasters turned out to be good. We didnt get what we wanted, and we didnt melt. We lived through dark times and survived. We committed to things beyond ourselves, zen in our case, a deep root. This life stage teaches us vital things, often very much against our will. We dont want the hospital or weakness or the death of someone we love. These may come. But they dont come in the context of a brutal and accidental universe. We are held. There is that core of calm in the midst of grief. Something carries us through awful pain. I say this with hesitation because I dont want to create some idea of a God or Spirit guiding us. But I experience a quiet, a sense of resting in something, of loving and being loved, of wanting to bow. I trust that this hidden stream will carry me through the difficult instruction of old age. Y

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VIEILLIR !
Janine Lvesque
Cest la seule faon quon ait trouve de vivre longtemps, parat-il. Mais pourquoi faut-il vivre? Et longtemps en plus? Pourquoi tous ces efforts pour tre aim, apprci, se faire une place au soleil quelque part? Sefforcer de survivre le plus confortablement possible avec le moins de soucis possibles, en essayant doublier que nous finirons par manger les pissenlits par la racine comme tous ceux qui nous ont prcds et tous ceux qui nous suivrons. A quoi sert de vivre? Nisargadatta dit que le seul but de la vie cest de vivre. Trs bien mais pourquoi vivre? Pourquoi y a-t-il la vie, les plantes, les toiles, les plantes, les animaux et surtout, tout ce cirque que font les humains? Dans la socit chrtienne, on nous a enseign, la petite cole quaprs la mort, ceux qui se sont bien conduit iront au ciel et les autres en enfer; ciel = bonheur ternel et enfer = malheur ternel. Le ciel, je veux bien; jy ai cr longtemps, mais le malheur ternel pour des fautes qui mapparaissent de plus en plus hors de notre contrle, a semble plutt heavy non? Dailleurs, mon avis, pour plusieurs, lenfer cest ici bas! Dautre part, le zen enseigne : pas de Dieu, pas de je, pas de monde l-bas donc pas de ciel en haut et pas denfer en bas. A ceci je dis bravo! Je pourrai continuer vieillir paisiblement sans la menace de lenfer au bout du chemin! mais aussi, sans lespoir de rcompenses pour mes bonnes actions et pour toutes les difficults que la vie nous inflige. Alors pourquoi diable vivre? Lorsquon est jeune, il y a toutes sortes de compensations qui nous font oublier que la fin du voyage nest pas que pour les autres et quil y aura une fin pour nous aussi, mais lorsquon est retrait, avec beaucoup de temps libre et peu dactivits obligatoires, que les gens autour de nous se mettent tomber comme des mouches, on se rend compte quon est tout coup sur la ligne de front pour utiliser un langage militaire, quon est la prochaine gnration qui devra faire ses adieux. Pour moi, cette ralisation sest faite lors dune fte chez mon beau-frre, un an ou deux aprs le dcs, 58 ans, de ma sur ane chez qui, depuis la vingtaine, je passais toujours le temps des Ftes de Nol et du Jour de lAn avec son mari, leurs trois filles, ses vieux parents lui, son frre, sa sur et son mari, ainsi que leurs trois garons et ventuellement ma fille aussi. Nous formions trois gnrations : les grands parents, les adultes et les enfants. Lors de cette fte donc, les grands parents tant dcds depuis plusieurs annes, ma sur tout rcemment, juste avant de devenir grand-mre et les enfants dautrefois formant maintenant la gnration des jeunes adultes avec quelques petits marmots, en observant mon beau-frre, son frre, sa sur et son mari qui tous taient plus ou moins silencieux (comme les grands parents jadis) pendant que les jeunes adultes discutaient et samusaient ferme et que les petits enfants jouaient au sous-sol, la ralisation que jtais maintenant sur la ligne de tir ma frappe comme une balle en plein cur. Je faisais maintenant partie de la gnration des vieux . Je navais que 55 ans mais dans ce contexte l, il fallait cocher la case 3e ge. Je travaillais depuis une dizaine dannes avec des consoeurs dans la trentaine et il me semblait faire partie du groupe mais ce soir l, je me suis rappel que lune dentre elles mavait dit, un jour que je racontais un vnement qui

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me semblait relativement rcent, quelle ntait pas encore ne ce moment l. Premier tir qui mavait pas mal branle. Mais le deuxime aurait pu machever si la pratique du zen ne stait dj installe depuis environ cinq ans dans ma vie. Comme pour plusieurs dentre nous, les premires annes de pratique sont un temps bni o on a la certitude davoir enfin trouv ce que lon cherchait sans savoir quon le cherchait. Mais quai-je trouv, au fait? Quelquun qui me pousse chercher ce que je ne savais pas que je cherchais dj? Quelquun qui maide me poser les bonnes questions tout en me laissant trouver par moi-mme les rponses, si rponse il y a? Quelquun qui mencourage par lexemple faire face aux problmes du vieillissement avec la foi quil y a une logique mes souffrances? Cest en passant dans le feu que je peux sortir du feu? Y

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entendr e ce cur cliqueter dans ma poitrine

Louis Bricault
Maintenant, il pleut. Mais nous ne savons pas ce qui se passera dans un instant. Le temps de sortir, il fera peut-tre trs beau, ou orageux. Puisque nous nen savons rien, apprcions maintenant le bruit de la pluie. et seffritent dans lair voir ceux que lon aime mourir ou simplement les oublier pleurer des larmes muettes le soir au creux dun fauteuil que lon occupera toute la nuit pendant quen sourdine parfois un tlviseur chuchote ses bruits blancs cest comme une voix pour ne pas tre seul prendre lentement ces mdicaments bleus blancs rouges et noirs qui nous mneront jusqu demain l-bas quand tout ira mieux quand les enfants reviendront mais a aussi a sest perdu quelque part en chemin on y reviendra plus la rivire dHraclite coule sans cesse et cest comme si elle aussi on lavait perdue de vue dans cet hpital de banlieue avec les crales froides du djeuner toujours pos l dans son cabaret vert ple prs de la fentre que lon nouvre jamais semble-t-il depuis des sicles tait-ce hier ces arbres pierres chaudes comme des pains au soleil mais la mmoire est toute mle, nest-ce-pas ? Marcher l - et lon marche lentement dans ces corridors-l stirant sans fin les mains agrippes une marchette de mtal dont le cliquettement senfonce comme le bruit dun volcan teint dans son oreille droite celle-l mme qui nentend plus aussi bien quavant les mots damour que de toute faon plus personne ne murmure avant de sendormir avec toute la tendresse du monde dans ces mains que lon sent sur soi sattarder attentives longuement allumer des soleils jamais plus et l juste l on a son plus beau sourire ses bas fleuris ses lunettes et lon rentre chez soi en soi l o sifflent les acouphnes du soir Mamie au grand air - la tte renverse au soleil les yeux ferms quelques instants respirer lair qui bouge marcher lentement on a perdu cela aussi le remplacement de la hanche a emport cela avec lui quelque part dans le pass et lon marche dans sa tte

Imaginer vieillir - dans le prsent ici mme il ny a pas davenir nous imaginons vieillir nous nous prdisons un avenir bien sr nous tenons compte de ce qui est probable nous investissons pargnons accumulons scrutons de prs les rendements boursiers sondons les fonds mutuels planifions nos rves alimentation saine exercices rguliers prvoyons des dbuts de retraites parsems de voyages de projets de rves rattraper avant que de commencer renoncer certaines choses car un jour il le faudra bien on imagine des deuils avec lesquels on arrivera composer mais la vie restera belle on fera autre chose on trouvera bien cest un vieillissement encore jeune mais jamais on ne simagine aveugle incontinent du ct du grand ge avec des spasmes et des chutes des muscles absents des os effrits sourds toute la musique du monde seuls abandonns dans des salles communes o tous ensemble il ny a personne Une grande misre - Y a-t-il une plus grande misre en ce monde, et plus grand motif de colre, que cette incessante querelle entre un vieux corps et une me jeune, un corps-prison et une me libre tre, dans le mme tre, ce grand vivant et ce mourant ? (1) Pertes - Problmes de sant maladie vulnrabilit accrue perte dautonomie capacits cognitives dclinantes essoufflements du cur tous ces mouvements qui ralentissent

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mais cest bon aussi on se rappelle les montagnes les chemins de traverse les tocs-tocs des pics dont les chos rebondissent encore dans les sous-bois que lon sent lintrieur de soi il faut parfois rver sans larmes tout ce qui nous habitait quand lme tait plus jeune encore aujourdhui quelle joie de parcourir le parc Lafontaine en chaise roulante la tte renverse au soleil les yeux ferms quelques instants Dsespoir - La vieillesse fournit plusieurs raisons assez ralistes dprouver du dsespoir : les aspects dun pass quon aurait ardemment dsir diffrents, les aspects dun prsent qui nous causent une souffrance sans rmission, les aspects dun futur incertain et effrayant. Et, bien sr, la mort invitable demeure un aspect de lavenir qui est la fois totalement certain et totalement inconnaissable. Par consquent, il faut quun certain dsespoir, anticip depuis le commencement de la vie, soit reconnu et intgr comme une composante du vieil ge. (2) Autrefois - Je fus autrefois jeune homme et jeune fille, et aussi arbuste, et oiseau, et muet poisson de la mer je ne sais pourquoi mais cette phrase crite il y a plus de deux mille ans par Empdocle cest ma propre voix la premire fois avec des senteurs denfance plein les poches et des crcelles dinsectes seule musique tout est encore possible alors Miroirs - On perd tous ses miroirs et lon ne sait trop o regarder pour retrouver ce que lon a perdu tous ces masques ces beaux masques infiniment miens et en secret lon se met prier un dieu quelconque redonne-moi redonnemoi mais lon ne se reconnat plus Crotre - Selon Erikson, la tche de croissance centrale au cours de la dernire priode de la vie consiste se rconcilier avec son propre cycle de vie, tel quil a t vcu, et avec lensemble de son exprience. Ne rien refuser et ne rien retenir de ce qui est et de ce qui a t. Retrouver la fluidit de toutes les rivires que lon porte en soi. Avec cette gratitude fondamentale qui, seule, leur permet de scouler librement. Apprendre bien vieillir - Dans la

mesure o certains facteurs prdictifs dun vieillissement russi lge de 70-80 ans peuvent tre valus avant lge de 50 ans, un travail thrapeutique en amont (de type prventif) peut tre envisag en vue de renforcer le ressort psychologique . (3) Selon certains auteurs, bien vieillir sapprend et se prpare. Il sagit de rester alerte aussi bien physiquement quintellectuellement, le plus longtemps possible. Dans cette perspective, les individus gs sont considrs comme des tres pleinement responsables de leur sant et de leur bien-tre, pouvant prtendre certaines possibilits de croissance et dpanouissement. Cultiver une attitude dtache devant des vnements potentiellement stressants, accepter son sort sans sy rsigner et modifier ses stratgies dadaptation lorsque cela savre ncessaire, renoncer poursuivre des buts que lon ne peut plus atteindre, apprendre pardonner afin dabandonner le ressentiment, la haine et la colre envers soi et les autres, cultiver une forme de lcher-prise et de distanciation en apprenant prter attention ses penses, sensations et sentiments, sans pour autant chercher les contrler et les juger : voil quelques-uns des lments dont lapprentissage progressif prpare un vieillissement heureux. Angelo - La semaine dernire il a chut sur le plancher fracture lpaule maintenant hospitalis cause de la maladie dAlzheimer dont il souffre depuis maintenant plusieurs annes il ne se souvient plus de tout cela non plus Bien vieillir - Pour Rose-Marie (73 ans), professeur duniversit la retraite : Bien vieillir, cest quelquun qui accepte de vieillir. Je vieillis, puis je laccepte ; je ne me rvolte pas en gnral. Les choses qui sont invitables, il faut bien finir par les accepter. Premirement, a ne changera rien du tout de se rvolter, puis deuximement, a va vous mettre dans une humeur terrible (rire). Pour Pauline (75 ans), femme la maison de milieu ais : Bien vieillir, cest penser positivement par rapport ce quon perd invitablement. Si tu es ngatif, tu ne vieillis pas bien. a vieillit mal quand tu es

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ngatif par rapport ce qui tarrive. Pour Gisle (67 ans), aujourdhui veuve et dmunie financirement : Quelquun qui vieillit bien, cest quelquun qui il ne manque rien en nourriture, puis quelquun qui est capable de faire ce quil veut, puis de dpenser ce quil veut. a, cest bien vieillir ! De ne pas avoir penser dun mois lautre ou dune semaine lautre si elle va avoir ce quil faut pour vivre. Cest a bien vieillir . Rita (69 ans), veuve dun ouvrier : Quelquun qui vieillit bien, cest quelquun qui nenvie pas les autres. Cest du monde qui nenvie pas personne . Gina (73 ans), veuve qui a t marie un plombier, explique : Bien vieillir ? Moi, cest le matin, de djeuner, de lire mon journal, faire ma toilette, sarranger, sentir quon a encore un corps. Jaime les articles de journaux qui parlent des voyages. La fin de semaine, je pars toujours vers un pays ou un autre, tout en restant ici (rire). (4) Maintenant, il pleut. Mais nous ne savons pas ce qui se passera dans un instant. Le temps de sortir, il fera peut-tre trs beau, ou orageux. Puisque nous nen savons rien, apprcions maintenant le bruit de la pluie. (5) Je pars toujours vers un pays ou un autre, tout en restant ici, l o je peux encore entendre mon cur cliqueter dans ma poitrine. Y Rfrences 1) Bernard-Henri Lvy, Le sicle de Sartre Grasset, 2000 2)-3)-4) Revue Qubecoise de Psychologie, vol.24 no 3, 2003 5) Shunryu Suzuki, Esprit zen, esprit neuf Seuil, 1977

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Tokusan Carries His Bowls

Teisho by Albert Low
The case: One day, Tokusan went toward the dining room holding his bowls. Seppo the head cook asked, What are you doing here with your bowls? The bell has not rung nor has the drum been struck. Tokusan turned and went back to his room. Seppo told Ganto about all of this and Ganto said, Tokusan is well known as a great teacher but even so he does not know the last word of Zen. Tokusan heard of this remark and sent his attendant to fetch Ganto. You do not approve of my teaching, he asked? Ganto whispered to Tokusan; Tokusan was silent. The next day he ascended to the rostrum and behold: his teisho was quite different from usual. Ganto, going to the front of the hall, clapped his hands and laughed loudly saying, Congratulations, our old man has got the last word. From now on nobody will be able to take the rise out of him. The commentary: As for the last word, it has never entered the mind of either Ganto or Tokusan. When you come to look into the matter, you find they are both like puppets on the shelf. The verse: To know the first word is to know the last word, But neither the first nor the last is a word. ~~~ First of all let us say something about a koan. One of the themes of this sesshin has been the Unknowable. And as we have tried to convey, the Unknowable has no qualities, no characteristics, has no substance, nothing that you could point to or name. Or even as we have pointed out many times, to call it the Unnameable or the Unknowable or Buddha Nature or God or whatever it is one is trying to use to designate it is not only obscuring it, there is no connection between the word and what it purports to point to. There is no doubt it is something that you will have encountered in your practice. There comes a moment when you see that everything that youve seen or heard about Zen has absolutely no significance at all. It doesnt even provide a platform to jump off from. Anyone that is anything of an intellectual can find this very distressing, because the intellectual is much identified with what he or she knows, to know something, to be knowledgeable, is to this person the most important attribute in life. And to realize finally that all ones knowing is, to use Tokusans phrase, not as much as a hair thrown into the abyss, as we say it can be disheartening. As you know there are many people who, when they hear of the unknowable, when they hear it has no attributes, no characteristics, no qualities, laugh and say well there is not much in it, is there? And they turn their back on it because they are convinced that all that really matters is what can be seen, felt, touched, smelt, what can be known, related, grasped, manipulated, controlled, used. This is the real stuff they say; anything else is utter nonsense. And lets face it, there is a lot of utter nonsense, utter nonsense that is talked about the unnameable. And it is the genius of the Chinese masters that has produced this way of talking about the unspeakable, the koans and the mondos. Many people look upon the koan in order to get information about it, or about life or about themselves. It is as though the koans for these people are pictures, a picture that one could look at and get information from. If you know for example Gainsborough, the British

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painter, and if you have seen his paintings of the 19th century British countryside, you know that one can look at this picture and really get to feel of what it must have been like to have lived for example on a farm - one can get the real feel of it, one can look into it, one seizes it, one gets to know something from it. And this is what many people do when they are working on a koan they think that somehow they are going to know something about the unknowable, they are going to be able to see it, that Mu is telling them something about the unknowable. Other people use a koan as a kind of meditation device. They use the koan as one can use a mirror. When we meditate we take some phrase, particularly a phrase spoken by an awakened person and we mull over, we weigh, we ponder, we think deeply about that phrase and there is something that sparkles in that phrase for us, this is why we have chosen it. And it is I was going to say enjoyment, but it is deeper than that, of the sparkle, of the light that we glimpse from the saying, that is attractive. And as we have said before, what the person is doing is getting reflected back to themselves the sparkle, the brilliance, the flash of their own genius, of their own light. There is nothing wrong with this. It is a way of opening up. Meditation like this can be like the rain falling on the dry earth of long zazen. But essentially, a koan is a window that you look through. You look at a picture, you look into a mirror, but you look through a window. A window does not obstruct, it does not separate, it allows. When one looks at a picture, there is a separation: I am here, the picture is there. When one looks into a mirror, there is still a separation. But it is what one might call an ambiguous situation. As we say, one is both reflecting on something that is being said, but at the same time reflecting on ones own light. There is a separation but it is not the ultimate divide of subject and object, of me and the picture. But looking through a window there is no separation, there is no obstruction. And this is how it is when you really work on a koan. Each koan is a window through which the light of being shines through, but it doesnt shine

from the outside to the inside; it shines from the inside to the inside. When we talk about inside, we dont mean inside the head or inside the body or inside some box that we call the mind. It is not a very good expression to look inward what we mean is no longer looking at things as objects. When one looks at things as oneself, there is not me and it, there is not even me, and there is certainly not it. One must realise that one starts off with the world as it is; this is ultimate reality. This zendo and you in it is ultimate reality. It is the full manifestation and play of the unknowable. And anything that one says is then an abstraction from this concrete fact of being. Like someone said to a master: what is the truth, and the master said: lets have some tea. On another occasion there was a young boy working with a master, and one day he went to the master and said, master I am leaving you. And the teacher said, oh, really, why? And the young boy said, I have been here now for three years, I came for your teaching, and you have not taught me anything. And the master said, When you bring me my meals, do I not acknowledge? And the boy said yes. And when I want to go out, do I not stand up? And the boy said yes. So the teacher said But what more do you want me to say? You see, you are looking at that as a picture, that is why you dont follow, you are not with it. You must look through everything that is being said. The concrete fact is a concrete fact; there is nothing else but it. Yasutani used to say, there is nothing else but my voice and your listening. This koan Tokusan carries his bowls is in a way a window unto not only the unspeakable but it is also a window on the Diamond Sutra. It is very interesting because Buddha asks, Has the Tathagata a teaching to enunciate, a teaching to give? This word Tathagata is a very interesting word and is very often translated as thus come. To me it means come to, open to if you like, although that obscures it a bit. You surely have those moments when you suddenly come to, you suddenly realise I wasnt there, I have been absent.

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Bouddha assis en prdication, 2-3e sicle, Gandhara, Pakistan, Peshawar, schiste.

Everything is just as it was before, nothing is changed, but it is almost as though a light has been turned on. And it is this turning on which is the Tathagata. Of course it is a term that Buddha uses for himself, but you understand that the word Buddha has got three meanings. One is the meaning of Buddha the person, the one that lived and died. But then there is the cosmic Buddha: the whole world is Buddha, the whole world is the working out of the karma of Buddha. But then there is this Buddha which is also known sometimes as the Dharmakaya. He says, Has the Tathagata a teaching to enunciate? And Subhuti answers, As I understand Buddhas meaning, there is no formulation of truth called consummation of incomparable awakening. Moreover, the Tathagata has no formulated teaching to teach. Why is this? Because the Tathagata has said that truth is uncontainable and inexpressible, it neither is nor is it not. As I understand Buddhas meaning, there is no formulation of truth called consummation of incomparable enlightenment. In other

words, there is no teaching that leads to ultimate awakening. There is no teaching. And he says, The Tathagata has no teaching to give and then he asks, Why is this? And he says, Because truth is uncontainable. Truth is unknowable and inexpressible. It neither is nor is it not. Now that sentence alone is worth spending time with. He says Buddha has no teaching and yet for forty five years Buddha taught. And there is a mass of books which are the collected teachings of Buddha. So why does Buddha say he has no teaching to enunciate? This koan is revolving around that very statement. As you know, the Diamond Sutra is one of the Prajna Paramita Sutras. And the Prajna Paramita is the school to which Zen belongs. The word Prajna, as you know pra means aroused and jna means knowing. It is the knowing of Bodhidharma when the emperor asked Bodhidharma, What are you? Bodhidharma said, I dont know. Later the courtier asked the emperor, Do you know who that man was, my lord? and the emperor said, I dont know.

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And one of the points of this koan is: what is the difference between the knowing or rather the not knowing of the emperor and the not knowing of Bodhidharma. What is this not knowing? We have said that one of the things we must let drop, get beyond, is reflected awareness. So what would be unreflected awareness? And this is jna, unreflected awareness. Prajna is arousing to the state of unreflected awareness. And because it is unreflected awareness, nothing is reflected when the mind is aroused in this way. And this gives rise to the saying that forms are empty. People try to understand what emptiness means and it is impossible to understand the meaning of emptiness is form. And yet again, as we will see, this koan is a way by which we can be open to it. The koan, a window into prajna and into form is empty. And as we say, in Prajna paramita, paramita means to the other shore. There are as you probably know six paramitas, of which prajna is normally looked upon as the last. And the prajna paramita means therefore arousing the mind and so arriving at the other shore. There is this notion of bitter ocean of birth and death, and Buddhas teaching is a raft by which we cross the bitter ocean of life and death and attain the other side. And the other side is, of course, oneself. It is not that there is a far shore that we have to arrive at, but there is a far shore from which we must come. Gate, gate, paragate, parasamgate, Bodhi, Svaha. Gone, gone, gone beyond, gone right beyond. Knowing, rejoice, is exactly the prajnaparamita. It ends with bodhi, knowing; that is the other shore. And this knowing is a not knowing - the I dont know of Bodhidharma. It is quite important that we realise this, because many people will feel that they can get into a state of pure knowing, it is a kind of clarity, of openness, it is a kind of space feeling and they feel that this is it. And of course it is not; one must go beyond that. In the letters of Bassui in particular, he is very insistent on this truth. There are a lot of people that are very disappointed and sometimes very angry with me when I say this is not enough, it is by no means enough, you must go beyond. Go beyond, gone,

gone, gone beyond. And as we say, the Diamond Sutra is indeed a sutra that is extolling the way of the aroused mind and everything that is said in the Diamond Sutra can only really be understood as long as one had some glimpses on this unknowing knowing. But there is a central statement which does sum it up very beautifully in which Buddha says, Therefore, the Bodhisattva, the great being - and as you know, anyone that has earnestly and honestly, sincerely undertaken the way, is a Bodhisattva. It is said that a Bodhisattva gives up his own entry into nirvana for the sake of all sentient beings. And to put it into more humble words, we practice not for what we can get out of it, this is not a psychological practice. And when people come in with misery saying that nothing has happened, they are not changed in any way, they are still the same old person, etc. they are certainly not Bodhisattvas. We practice because there is practice to practice. And when one really does that there is infinite beauty and truth in it. It is not altruism and it certainly is not kind of stubborn obduracy. There is something far beyond our own individual pleasures and desires that are constantly bubbling up. There is a cosmic truth of which we are messengers if we are open to the truth. Therefore Subhuti, the Bodhisattva, the great being and you dont know how great the possibilities are when you are looking to see am I changed? am I a better person? I am so fed up and so on The great being should produce a thought of utmost, right and perfect enlightenment. Should produce a thought of enlightenment! What does that mean? You sit and think about enlightenment? You sit and think about how wonderful it would be or it could be? But then he goes on to say, Such a thought should be produced without the help of sounds, smells, tastes, what can be touched. In other words it must be beyond any kind of image or imagination. Such a thought should be produced without the help of sounds, smells, tastes, what can be touched, without concepts or ideas. Without concepts or ideas, without thoughts. You must produce a thought without

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thought, without theories, without philosophy, without Zen. It should also be produced without the help of things or by anything else at all. Now, he says, a Bodhisattva should arouse the mind without resting it on anything. And this is the thought of utmost, perfect awakening. It is not about it; it is it. He says, Therefore Subhuti, all Bodhisattvas should arouse a pure, lucid, non reflecting mind. This is the essential. We dwell in a reflected mind, a reflected word. We are the original Narcissus, we are falling in love with our own reflections and we are drowning in it and we are calling this our life. All Bodhisattvas should arouse a pure, lucid, non reflecting mind that is not dependent upon seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, touching or any quality at all. This is arousing the unknowing mind; the unnameable, the unattainable. A Bodhisattva should arouse the mind without resting upon anything. It is such as powerful statement. And it is again one of those statements that one could very well dwell on for a very long time. And then there is a very brief statement that says, Who seeks me by forms, who seeks me in sounds, perverted are his ways upon the Way, because he cannot perceive the Tathagata. The Tathagata is unknowable; the Tathagata is the aroused mind that rests on nothing. So lets go to the koan shall we. It is a very interesting one because it is like a play in three acts and each has its own window you might say in this unknowable knowing, this aroused mind. One day Tokusan went toward the dining room holding his bowls. Seppo the head cook asked, What are you doing here with your bowls? The bell has not rung nor has the drum being struck. By the way a head cook in a monastery was normally somebody who was fairly advanced in his practice. The preparation of food in a monastery was looked upon as something that was almost a sacred kind of activity and it was not for nothing that Dogen addressed his admonition on attention to the

cooks. So Seppo should have been somewhat advanced in his practice. And yet there was something brash about this stepping out to the teacher in this way and sort of dressing him down for coming before time. So Seppo is dressing down the teacher. And so Tokusan turned and went back to his room. Now the question here is what was in Tokusans mind when he went back to his room. Did he go back saying to himself, who does he think he is? etc Or did he go back with an empty mind? Orhow did he go back? How would you demonstrate this and this is a very important point. One has to demonstrate; but how can you demonstrate this? What was in Tokusans mind when he went back to his room? How would you demonstrate this? How would you show that you know what is the essence in Tokusans gesture? And then Seppo told Ganto about all this and Ganto said something interesting, he said, Tokusan is well known as a great teacher but even so he doesnt know the last word of Zen. The question here is, is Ganto being critical when he says he doesnt know the last word of Zen. What is the last word of Zen? You see this is what most people are trying to grasp. One way or another they are trying to get the last word of Zen; they are trying to get it, they are trying to finalize, we have been speaking about this wish to finalize early in this sesshin. We want things to come to a stop, we want something ultimate, we want something absolute, we want the last word of Zen, we want it. And so when he says, Tokusan doesnt know the last word of Zen, what was in Gantos mind? And how what was in Gantos mind different from what was in Tokusans mind? Tokusan heard of this remark and sent his attendant to fetch Ganto. He asked him, You dont approve of my teaching? And Ganto whispered something to Tokusan. What did he whisper? As we said, this koan is a window unto the ineffable and it is in that Ganto whispered to Tokusan that one sees this in its clearest. What did he whisper? Actually one interpretation which is rather interesting: somebody said Ganto whispered that Seppo had a big ego! It is obvious that this person saw the

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koan as a pictureexplaining that this koan was about the fact that there are a lot of persons with big egos even if they are advanced in their practice, and so on But it is nothing like that. And again Tokusan was silent. So we have two silences so far: one when he turned and went back to his room and now this one. So what about that? What is that telling us? How are we going to interpret this koan, how are we going to see into this koan? Because this, you might say, is pointing to a kind of may I call it background... it is pointing to the beyond all the time. Gate, gate, gate, paragate, parasamgate. It is impelling us if we are sensitive to and dwell correctly with the koan. The way that one comments on it of course simply points one in the direction how you can be sensitive to, it is itself not necessary a sensitive exposition, because one needs to dwell on this, ponder, weigh, one needs to be involved with it, one needs to, as someone nicely put it, one needs to inhabit, one needs to be Seppo, Ganto, Tokusan, one needs to be involved in the drama of what is going on, get the feel of it. Tokusan was silent and the next day he ascended to the rostrum and behold, his teisho was quite different from usual. So the next question is what was his teisho? What did he teach? Or again remember arouse the mind without resting it on anything, that is the predominant issue, not only of this koan and not only of the Diamond Sutra, but it is the primary issue of life itself. Ganto, going to the front of the hall, clapped his hands and laughed loudly saying congratulations, our old man has got the last word! He didnt have the last word he has got the last word what is Ganto on about this damn last word? What is it? What is he saying?

Hes got it, he hasnt got it. Then there is the commentary and it is a very fascinating commentary. He says, As for the last word, it never entered to the mind of either Ganto or Tokusan. Why does he say that as a commentary on this koan? But then he says and this is where the fascination comes in, When you come to look into the matter, you find they are both like puppets on the shelf. Puppets on the shelf why? What is the similarity between Ganto and Tokusan and a puppet on a shelf? Not a puppet dancing on the end of a string, no, a puppet on the shelf. What about puppets on the shelf. What do you get when you feel, when you become one with puppets on the shelf. What is the difference between puppets on the shelf and puppets on the string? And what is that got to do with Tokusan and Ganto? And what is that got to do with the Diamond Sutra? He says, To know the first word is to know the last word, but neither the first nor the last is a word. As we say, how do we talk about the unspeakable, the unknowable, the transcendent? This has been a puzzle right throughout the years. It is not in silence. If you merely think that Tokusan went back with a silent empty mind, you have missed the point, you have missed the koan. It is not that. There was an interesting comment a student said, that he went to his teacher with nothing and left him with nothing. Someone asked him, But why do you go to a teacher then? He said, How else would I know that I went with nothing and I came back with nothing? Y

Teisho 4/4 ( Octobre 2007 )

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Calendrier 2008
Janvier
Dimanche 6, 13, 27 Vendredi 18-20 Avant-midi de zazen Sesshin de deux jours

Juin
Dimanche 1, 8, 22 Jeudi 12-15 Avant-midi de zazen Sesshin de trois jours et de deux jours

Fvrier
Vendredi 1-8 Dimanche 10, 24 Samedi 16 Dimanche 17 Jeudi 21, 28 Sesshin de sept jours Avant-midi de zazen Atelier Sance dune journe Cours pour les dbutants

September
Friday 29(Aug)-5 Sunday 7, 14, 28 Saturday 20 Sunday 21 Thursday 25 Seven day sesshin Morning of zazen Workshop One day sitting Beginners course

Mars
Jeudi 6, 13 Dimanche 2, 9, 16 Jeudi 20-23 Samedi 29 Dimanche 30 Cours pour les dbutants Avant-midi de zazen Sesshin de trois jours Atelier Sance dune journe

October
Thursday 2, 16, 23 Friday 3-10 Sunday 12, 19 Saturday 18 Saturday 25 Sunday 26 Beginners cours Seven day sesshin Morning of zazen Workday Workshop One day sitting

Avril November
Jeudi 3, 17, 24 Vendredi 4-11 Dimanche 13, 20 Samedi 26 Dimanche 27 Cours pour les dbutants Sesshin de sept jours Avant-midi de zazen Journe de travail et Assemble annuelle Sance dune journe Sunday 2, 16, 23, 30 Thursday 6-9 Thursday 13, 20, 27 Morning of zazen Three day sesshin Beginners course

December Mai
Jeudi 1 Dimanche 4, 18, 25 Vendredi 9-16 Cours pour les dbutants Avant-midi de zazen Sesshin de sept jours Friday 5-12 Sunday 14, 21 Wednesday 31 (8PM 12PM) Seven day Sesshin Morning of zazen New Years Eve Ceremony

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Je sais que ce monde Est aussi phmre que la rose Et pourtant... pourtant Issa